But how can I be happy, when I know Each hour I add a sin-weight to His load As he goes reeling up the Sorrow-Road To grim Golgotha where the ravens go? But how can I be sad, when I know well He died for us, to bring us lasting joy— He bled and suffered, sadness to destroy, And hush the haunting threnodies of Hell? Ah, Lord, Thy wisdom brims with mystery, With beauties that it scalds the eyes to see, With healing that can cut us like a knife; I understand the crowning irony: That Pilate questioned, "What is truth?" of Thee, Who art, Thyself, the Way and Truth and Life!
J.B. Toner is a graduate of the school of hard knocks.