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.
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.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem.
ReplyDelete