Mother of Sorrows

My Son, could I have climbed this hill for You,
How willingly had I endured each stone:
Yet, I too struggled up steep Calvary;
You have not climbed alone!

Could I have borne the monstrous cross for You,
I would have carried it unto my death.
Though I could not, still I have felt its weight,
My Son, with every breath!

Oh, could I pluck these nails from Your loved flesh,
And driving them through mine, make them a part
Of my own body’s pain, I would! But Son,
I wear them in my heart!

Virginia Moan Evans
St. Anthony Messenger
March 1958