Poems (Davidson)/The Garden of Gethsemane

by Lucretia Maria Davidson

THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.

Gethsemane! there's holy blood
 Upon thy green and waving brow;
Gethsemane! a God hath stood,
 And o'er thy branches bended low!

There drops of agony have hung
 Mingled with blood upon his brow;
For sin his bosom there was wrung,
 And there it bled for human woe.

There, in the darkest hour of night,
 Alone He watched, alone He prayed;
Didst thou not tremble at the sight?
 A God reviled! a God betrayed!

Gethsemane! so dark a scene
 Ne'er blotted the wide book of time!
Oblivion's veil can never screen
 So dark a deed, so black a crime!