WITHIN a Garden’s bound, | |
| Where still night reigned around, | |
| A mournful cry of bitter anguish wailed; | |
| There, hid from mortal gaze, | |
| One knelt in deep amaze, | 5 |
| A Heart oppressed beneath its Burthen quailed. | |
| |
| That One, in travail sore, | |
| Was our dear Lord, Who bore | |
| Our sin’s great burthen that on Him was laid; | |
| While none could bring relief, | 10 |
| To that exceeding grief, | |
| The grief that made His human Soul afraid. | |
| |
| But lo! from those hot veins, | |
| Forced out by mental pains, | |
| Great Drops of Blood adown the verdure fall; | 15 |
| Such whelming fears assail, | |
| That heart and courage fail, | |
| As first essays of sin’s strange load appal. | |
| |
| No other gaze but His | |
| Could fathom that abyss, | 20 |
| Whose lowest depths to Him stood all revealed; | |
| The sins of Adam’s race, | |
| Against God’s Love and Grace, | |
| His thoughts embraced them all as thus He kneeled. | |
| |
| Ungodly counsels then, | 25 |
| And deeds of evil men, | |
| All sins of each degree, of every kind; | |
| Not as to mortal eyes, | |
| But in their hellish guise, | |
| Were then all bared to His Omniscient Mind. | 30 |
| |
| The ponderous weight of all, | |
| From Adam’s grievous fall, | |
| Till earth’s Last Day and solemn Reckoning Time; | |
| Of all God’s Books record, | |
| The curse, the due reward, | 35 |
| Th’ iniquity of all now laid on Him! | |
| |
| That high-filled Cup of Woes, | |
| His Prescient Mind foreknows, | |
| From first approach of Judas’ torch-led host; | |
| That false disciple’s kiss, | 40 |
| And all that followed this, | |
| Till on the Cross He yielded up the ghost. | |
| |
| Each furrowed, bleeding gash, | |
| From cruel scourge’s lash, | |
| And sharpest pricks of that mock thorny Crown; | 45 |
| The insults, blows, and scorn, | |
| That must be meekly borne, | |
| These weigh the Son of Man’s meek Spirit down. | |
| |
| He sees with vision clear, | |
| And shrinks with human fear, | 50 |
| The Cross with curse o’erlaid and angry doom; | |
| The hours of racking pain | |
| He must, nailed there, sustain, | |
| While lingering death life’s marrow shall consume. | |
| |
| Maker and Lord of all! | 55 |
| Behold Him prostrate fall, | |
| And humbly kneel in silent anguish there; | |
| Till, with an inward groan, | |
| Towards the Heavenly Throne, | |
| With earnest pleading, He directs His Prayer. | 60 |
| |
| “Father, to Thee I pray, | |
| O take this Cup away! | |
| Thou hast all power to do Thy Will Divine; | |
| Remove, if it may be, | |
| This Cup away from Me! | 65 |
| Yet, Father, not My Will be done, but Thine.” | |
| |
| Thus thrice our suffering Lord, | |
| With Prostrate Form implored; | |
| That even then that Hour might pass away; | |
| Until from Heaven, at length, | 70 |
| An angel brought Him strength, | |
| And healing balm His troubled Soul to stay. | |
| |
| O well for us, indeed! | |
| He took, as was decreed, | |
| And drained the Cup His Heavenly Father gave; | 75 |
| And therefore songs of praise | |
| We ransomed sinners raise, | |
| To Him Who meekly died our souls to save. | |
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