Let’s forget it now,
And all go home.
He is buried and the stone is in place.
His family is in tears, his friends are lost.
This time it is really over.
Lord, it is not over.
‘You are in agony till the end of time,’ I know.
Men tread the way of the cross in relays.
The resurrection will only be completed when they have reached the end of the way.
I am on the road; I have a small share of your suffering and the others have theirs.
Together we help you to carry the burden that you have assumed and made divine.
There lies my hope, Lord, and my invincible trust.
There is not a fraction of my little suffering that you have not already lived and transformed into infinite redemption.
When the road is hard and monotonous,
When it leads to the grave,
I know that beyond the grave you are waiting for me in your glory.
Lord, help me to travel along my road faithfully, at my proper place in the vast procession of humanity.
Help me above all to recognise you and to help you in all my pilgrim brothers.
For it would be a lie to weep before your lifeless image, if I did not follow you, living, on the road men travel.
From Prayers of Live by Michel Quoist