A thorn, I asked—
one from His crown
to hold for Him
as side by side
we walked the forty days.
Though I was frail,
I thought one barb
could easily be borne
when He had suffered
so much more for me.
He heard my prayer;
with rending pain
it pierced my heart, my soul—
that single thorn,
just one alone.
There it lodged
and though He held my hand
and led me on to Easter morn,
I gladly gave it back,
my courage spent.
And never have I asked
again to share His crown,
not one thorn’s sting
from mankind’s weight of sin
that only God can bear.
It is enough
for me to face
what comes my way;
these days I trust in Him
to choose my trials.