I SLIPPED HIS FINGERS | Poem for Lent by Fulton Sheen

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“I slipped His fingers, I escaped His feet,
     I ran and hid, for Him I feared to meet.
     One day I passed Him, fettered on a Tree,
     He turned His Head, and looked, and beckoned me.

    “Neither by speed, nor strength could He prevail.
     Each hand and foot was pinioned by a nail.
     He could not run or clasp me if He tried,
     But with His eye, He bade me reach His side.

    “For pity’s sake, thought I, I’ll set you free.
     ‘Nay — hold this cross,’ He said, ‘and follow me.
     This yoke is easy, this burden light,
     Not hard or grievous if you wear it tight.’

    “So did I follow Him Who could not move,
     An uncaught captive in the hands of Love.”