He walked with shoulders drooped,
They laughed and jeered at him,
‘Give it all up?’ They said,
Truly, a fool is he.

He leaned on a tree,
Like a person weaned from life’s bliss;
His heart, heavy as he went,
Like a labourer all but spent.

He wished they could see,
The bliss, joy, and glee,
That followed when they chose Him,
But their sights where much too dim.

If he had to do it again,
He would choose His gain,
Over that of any persons’ or things’;
His Saviour, His Master, His King, His friend.

That you may be honoured Lord,
That you alone may be glorified,
If I have to forfeit fame and greatness all over,
I’ll do it without a second thought or halt.