On His Knees - Gethsemane

The garden is dark,

The birds sing no more.

The petals have closed,

At the close of the day.

And the Creator of Earth,

The Sustainer of Life,

Sits sobbing.

And weeping,

Tears of blood.

The beauty He made,

The perfection He sought,

The colours first perceived,

As He spoke the first words.

Were hidden in blackness,

Where colour's no more,

And Evil smiles,

And Terror,

Waits to win.

But the most terrible night,

Is only there till the morn.

And the great Prince of Life,

Rises out of the gloom,

And He crushes the fear,

And rides high on the storm,

To be King,

Of all Kings,

And forever.

For He endured that cross,

He despised the shame,

And He sits down again,

On the right hand of God.

But He knew how it feels,

He knew how it hurts,

To be depressed,

To say it out loud,

On His knees.

MJH. 30/04/23