Gethsemane waited beyond the night road,

Eight were left sitting while four farther went.

Peter and James and John heard him confess

A sorrow so heavy it pressed unto death.

Stay here and watch, but he went on alone,

Fell to his face on the dark garden ground.

The cup stood before him, the prayer left no doubt:

If there is another way, let it pass now.

The cup in the garden was not taken away.

Submission remained when relief did not come.

The will of the Father stood over the night,

And sorrow kept moving toward morning and trial.

He came back to Peter and found them asleep,

One hour of watching had fallen too deep.

Watch and pray; temptation is near.

The spirit is willing; the flesh has its fears.

Again he withdrew, and again came the plea:

If this cup must be taken, then let the will be.

Again they were sleeping, their eyes overcome,

And no human watcher could carry him on.

A third time he prayed what had already been said,

No bargain, no escape, no turning instead.

Then back to the sleepers with night nearly done:

The hour is at hand; the betrayer has come.

The cup in the garden was not taken away.

Submission remained when relief did not come.

He rose from the earth and walked toward the hour,

Not dragged from the garden, but meeting its power.

Sleep was over.

The footsteps were near.