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Gethsemane! The Garden’s lonely shade the world’s
Redeemer sought that night. He went alone to pray
For grace and strength to drink the last drop in His Cup.
Great souls crave solitude in sorrow’s hour! Not e’en
His well-beloved three might share the sacredness
Of that deep woe,—He bade them tarry, while He went
A little farther on, and fell upon His face.
* * *
Gethsemane! A solitary place, apart,
No mortal feet may press in sympathy that dark,
Encrimsoned earth. No human hand the fevered brow
May cool, no other heart can share its agony,
No voice but God’s may break the solemn silence there,—
A place where every soul must drink alone the Cup
The Father’s hand hath poured, and given to His child.
Gethsemane! A desert place, alone, apart?
Ah, no! The anguished heart doth never cry in vain
To Him who marks the smallest sparrow when it falls,
For He shall send His Angel with the message, “Fear
Thou not, for I am with thee! I will ne’er forsake,
Nor let thee fail! My right hand shall uphold, My love,
My power shall keep thee, even to the bitter end!”
GERTRUDE W. SEIBERT.
— March 15, 1913 —
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