The night He knew that He would die
He prayed alone in Gethsemane.
These, the yearnings of His cry,
“My Father, take this cup from me!”
Amidst the sweat, blood and tears,
Resisting urge to fight or flee,
To avoid the thorns, hate and jeers.
But knew He depths of lasting rue
Had He escaped this night of fears.
Determined now, for what to do,
He must hang upon the tree.
This fearsome plan He’d follow through.
Now on the tree of Calvary,
In anguish great, to God He cried,
“My God, why’ve you forsaken me?”
Seemed all was lost the night He died
And vaulted deep behind a stone.
But there death’s vict’ry was denied.
Reclaimed He life, o’er death He’d won!
Proof to all He is God’s son.
© 2012, Dr. Phil Bryant