Gethsemane

A Man on Death Row
In the garden, he waits
Away shut sleepy gates
And he is alone

 

Sorrowful and troubled
Thirty pieces of silver
Is the price on His head

 

Furrowed brow and fervent cries
‘Oh that this cup may be denied’
Strength comes from heavenly skies

 

He pleads and kneels,
Then bleeds and keels
Ruby sweat falling to his feet

 

‘Nonetheless, not as I will,
but as You will.’
He knew what hinged upon that hill
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