Gethsemane

He entereth the Garden, lonely,—
Follow Him, O my soul!
He falleth, and lieth pronely,—
Down on thy face, my soul!
Angels are all anear Him,
Yet is He lone, my soul;
Demons no longer fear Him,—
Lo, how the red streams roll!
Only thy love can cheer Him:
Tell Him I love Him, my soul.

Into the deep hell with Him,
Follow Him, O my soul!
Horrors no words tell, with Him
Drink of them deep, my soul.
Challenge the worlds for sorrow,
Shoulder the weight, my soul;
Woes of the ages borrow,
Take of all suffering toll:
Think not of rest to-morrow;
Bleed with Him, O my soul!
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