Sisyphus, take thy rock again,
Up wooded hills and down the glens.
Tarry not amidst the valley;
Bear thy stone, with valor fit thee.
Sisyphus, run thy race again,
Do not dismay when hope wears thin.
Push thee forward, till the morn;
And trust for strength when thou art worn.
Sisyphus, start thy day again,
Do not weep for pain that presses in.
Your daily toil he sees and hears;
He recognizes all your tears.
Friend, lay thy burden down for good.
Your endless fight, he won with wood.
Though woe may press from every side,
Know that another fought: and died.
Sisyphus, look to him again,
The face of him who took your sin.
The stone you carried day by day:
The Lord has rolled that stone away!
A. Andrew Joyce