I watch You pray upon Your knees
In the garden of Gethsemane,
And hear Your voice, both sure and meek,
Travail in earnest agony;
Still, wondering at Your sweat and blood –
Is strength in this and is this love?
I watch in silence as You stand
In silent protest, a just man;
Watching, see a man so wracked,
Without help, so attacked,
Until death brings some peace,
If not a just and sweet release.
I watch the faithful lay You down,
Anoint with myrrh Your bloody brow;
And, one by one all disappear,
Fearing as the night draws near:
Yet, with the morning mourning flees
As You ‘rise and bring sure peace.
Your Grace is strength and purity;
So, when I wonder at its reach,
From Heaven’s height to Calvary,
From life to death to victory,
From first confessions to the last;
I find Grace equal to the task
Your crucifixion posed to me,
So bare my cross as pleases Thee.
(c) Marc Libidinsky, 2017