He never spoke a word to me, <br />And yet He called my name; <br />He never gave a sign to me, <br />And yet I knew and came. <br />At first I said, "I will not bear <br />His cross upon my back; <br />He only seeks to place it there <br />Because my skin is black." <br /> <br />But He was dying for a dream, <br />And He was very meek, <br />And in His eyes there shone a gleam <br />Men journey far to seek. <br /> <br />It was Himself my pity bought; <br />I did for Christ alone <br />What all of Rome could not have wrought <br />With bruise of lash or stone.<br /><br />Countee Cullen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/simon-the-cyrenian-speaks/
