Sunday, 3 March 2013


Where did He spend the hours of that last night?
The Mount of Olives where He had valued life
And with His Father had joy that was divine;
Gethsemane: there His will must collide
With Satan's will to swerve Him from the right.
Yet if there lay before Him hours of strife
And grief more fierce that any can indite
His soul recoiled but Christ would not resile.
The enemy might try each thwart device:
He could not touch the dignity of Christ.
Before fire touched the offering in the types
The water proved the sacrifice refined.


  1. Although you didn't mention it here, your poem reminds me of those moments when His sweats were like drops of blood. He really sacrificed everything for you and I.


I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!