into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
No word of His own agony. What matter who saw or saw not, if it behoved the Christ to die? But for them, how could they withstand with such short-lived ardour?
But His own heart was full of heaviness, and no comfort came. Was this perchance the answer? As they slept, oblivious, callous, so heaven seemed for one moment motionless, unanswering.
Alone, alone, in that great garden of solitude, treading the winepress alone, quaffing the fiery cup to the last scalding drop, the cup that none else would taste, yet that He must drain to the very dregs. No way out, no way out, but through that cross, if men were to be saved, and apparently how little they were worth the saving. The silence and the night only seemed to answer: "Thou must drink it and alone." And, bowing His sacred head once more, He prayed in meek obedience: "If this cup may not pass away from Me, except I drink it, Thy will be done."
And once more He came to see whether any watched with Him; and once more He found them fast asleep.
Still silence only for an answer.
"None will drink it for Thee, none will help. Thou must drink it and alone;" and once more He prayed: "Thy will be done." And as He bowed His head to the ground, His forehead struck a stone and drops of blood fell from His forehead.
Then He came to them again and gazed with pity on their sleeping faces.
