Wiseblood Books

The Agony

Joseph Prever

In the hour of darkness the moon had hid her face,
And all the world was sleeping, save one who wept.
He left the meager comfort of well-meaning friends,
Charging them, Watch; and into the garden crept,


And heard the lie of the world:
That the darkness here is a fell and final thing;
And flesh will crumble for aye in the valley of bones,
And tongues that are parched will never find voice to sing.
And this is our hope: that he whose sweat was blood,
As the heavy droplets fell and his spirits sank,
Lifted his eyes and murmured Thy will be done;
Lifted cracked lips to the Father’s cup; and drank.

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