Quid Est Veritas?

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!