Garden of Gethsamne..
He walked to the garden
Head hung low
Time was ticking away
His feet weary and slow.
He asked His disciples
To keep watch and pray
But when He came back
In deep slumber they lay.
So He prayed
His soul in anguish torn
His sweat dropping like blood
Down to the sod.
And He begged His Father
' Take this cup, away I pray'
Till finally when no respite came
' Not my will, but as You say'
His disciples still slept
Unmindful of His travail
Jesus the man of sorrows
In agony and pain
Then an angel came to Him
Wings silent as the night
And spoke strength to Jesus
Courage and might.
All at once! A crowd!
Judas! The Kiss of death!
Jesus gave Himself up
No struggling, no threats
A rash blow, An injury
A miracle again!
Our gentle Savior
No striving He made.
Escorted by the elite
He'd exposed their hearts
Whitewashed sepulchres
Burdensome braggarts..
That reminds me of myself
In ways more than I'd like
Ignoring the log, focusing on the speck
Despising the widow's mite, loving the best.
Nose lifted high in disdain
To the poor man lying on the way.
Not willing to budge
From the law, come what may.
Now as a prisoner
Son of God, Son of Man
Calmer of storms, Healer
The sacrificial lamb
For God sent His son
Agent of grace
To bring salvation
To our fallen race.
Do I see a glimpse
Of myself in that crowd?
Curious and fearful
Will I be found out?
Then He looks at me
I can't draw my gaze away
' But the eyes have no anger
Only compassion and grace'.
Comments
Post a Comment