Poems (Ford)/Gethsemane
For works with similar titles, see Gethsemane.
GETHSEMANE.
Night above Judea's mountains folds her mantle like a pall;
Soft the shadows of her pinions over hill and valley fall;
Sad Gethsemane, above thee seems a darker shadow thrown,
Where the Saviour kneeleth lowly in His agony alone.
Soft the shadows of her pinions over hill and valley fall;
Sad Gethsemane, above thee seems a darker shadow thrown,
Where the Saviour kneeleth lowly in His agony alone.
Blessed Lord, what bitter anguish in that dreadful hour was Thine,
When the powers of earth and heaven seemed against Thee to combine,
When the angel, bending o'er Thee, held the flaming chalice down,
And revealed the fearful torture of the Cross and thorny crown.
When the powers of earth and heaven seemed against Thee to combine,
When the angel, bending o'er Thee, held the flaming chalice down,
And revealed the fearful torture of the Cross and thorny crown.
By Thy chosen ones forsaken in that dark and bitter hour,
When a surging sea of sorrow swept Thy soul with fearful power—
They, unmindful of Thy anguish, slept while foes came rushing on,
Leaving Thee to brave the fury of Thy enemies alone.
When a surging sea of sorrow swept Thy soul with fearful power—
They, unmindful of Thy anguish, slept while foes came rushing on,
Leaving Thee to brave the fury of Thy enemies alone.
Oh, Gethsemane, mute witness of the agony of God,
Consecrated by His sorrow, ever holy be thy sod;
Mercy in His heart with Justice striving, there the victory won,
As He cried, "Oh, Heavenly Father, not my will, but Thine, be done."
Consecrated by His sorrow, ever holy be thy sod;
Mercy in His heart with Justice striving, there the victory won,
As He cried, "Oh, Heavenly Father, not my will, but Thine, be done."
While on earth we're doomed to wander, every human soul must know
Some dark hour of desolation, some Gethsemane of woe,—
Moments when the fainting spirit in its weariness will groan,
Weakly shrinking from the trials that it fears to meet alone.
Some dark hour of desolation, some Gethsemane of woe,—
Moments when the fainting spirit in its weariness will groan,
Weakly shrinking from the trials that it fears to meet alone.
But when waves of sorrow o'er us like the ocean billows roll,
Bitter tears will wash the earth-stains from the white wings of the soul;
Lord, though weak and weary-hearted, from our woes we try to flee,
Let us drink Thy bitter chalice, if it make us more like Thee.
Bitter tears will wash the earth-stains from the white wings of the soul;
Lord, though weak and weary-hearted, from our woes we try to flee,
Let us drink Thy bitter chalice, if it make us more like Thee.
Often from Thy path we wander, agonizing Son of God;
We would walk to heaven on roses, while on thorns Thy feet have trod,—
Teach our hearts that it is only by the Cross the Crown is won;
In our darkest hours of sorrow let us say, "Thy will be done!"
We would walk to heaven on roses, while on thorns Thy feet have trod,—
Teach our hearts that it is only by the Cross the Crown is won;
In our darkest hours of sorrow let us say, "Thy will be done!"