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| THE MOON was shining yet. The Orient’s brow, | |
| Set with the morning-star, was not yet dim; | |
| And the deep silence which subdues the breath | |
| Like a strong feeling, hung upon the world | |
| As sleep upon the pulses of a child. | 5 |
| ’T was the last watch of night. Gethsemane, | |
| With its bathed leaves of silver, seemed dissolved | |
| In visible stillness; and as Jesus’ voice, | |
| With its bewildering sweetness, met the ear | |
| Of his disciples, it vibrated on | 10 |
| Like the first whisper in a silent world. | |
| They came on slowly. Heaviness oppressed | |
| The Saviour’s heart, and when the kindnesses | |
| Of his deep love were poured, he felt the need | |
| Of near communion, for his gift of strength | 15 |
| Was wasted by the spirit’s weariness. | |
| He left them there, and went a little on, | |
| And in the depth of that hushed silentness, | |
| Alone with God, he fell upon his face, | |
| And as his heart was broken with the rush | 20 |
| Of his surpassing agony, and death, | |
| Wrung to him from a dying universe, | |
| Was mightier than the Son of man could bear, | |
| He gave his sorrows way,—and in the deep | |
| Prostration of his soul, breathed out the prayer, | 25 |
| “Father, if it be possible with thee, | |
| Let this cup pass from me.” O, how a word, | |
| Like the forced drop before the fountain breaks, | |
| Stilleth the press of human agony! | |
| The Saviour felt its quiet in his soul; | 30 |
| And though his strength was weakness, and the light | |
| Which led him on till now was sorely dim, | |
| He breathed a now submission. “Not my will, | |
| But thine be done, O Father!” As he spoke, | |
| Voices were heard in heaven, and music stole | 35 |
| Out from the chambers of the vaulted sky | |
| As if the stars were swept like instruments. | |
| No cloud was visible, but radiant wings | |
| Were coming with a silvery rush to earth, | |
| And as the Saviour rose, a glorious one, | 40 |
| With an illumined forehead, and the light | |
| Whose fountain is the mystery of God, | |
| Encalmed within his eye, bowed down to him, | |
| And nerved him with a ministry of strength. | |
| It was enough,—and with his godlike brow | 45 |
| Rewritten of his Father’s messenger, | |
| With meekness, whose divinity is more | |
| Than power and glory, he returned again | |
| To his disciples, and awaked their sleep, | |
| For he that should betray him was at hand. | 50 |
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