John Brownlie (trans.) · 25 of 130

II: Within the garden's sombre shade

Within the garden's sombre shade, The Christ of God in anguish prayed;-- And who that agony could tell, As from His brow the blood-drops fell?

"Can ye not watch one hour?" He saith,-- "My soul is sorrowful to death." But He alone the vigil kept, While worn disciples slumbering slept.

O dark the cloud that threatening hung, And sore the grief His soul that wrung;-- The hate of man, the guilty name, The bitter Cross, the sin and shame.

"If I must drink this cup," He prayed, "The burden bear upon Me laid, My God, I bow Me to Thy will, And meekly Thy behest fulfil."

My soul! when to the garden led, And clouds are gathering overhead; When none the hour of anguish shares, To God direct thy earnest prayers.

"Thy will be done, Thy will is best,"-- And then the bitter cup is blest, If for His will the cup I drain, Despite the agony and pain.