Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.

Christus: A Mystery

Part I. The Divine Tragedy. The Third Passover. IV. The Garden of Gethsemane

MY spirit is exceeding sorrowful

Even unto death! Tarry ye here and watch.

Under this ancient olive-tree, that spreads

Its broad centennial branches like a tent,

Let us lie down and rest.

What are those torches,

That glimmer on Brook Kedron there below us?

It is some marriage feast; the joyful maidens

Go out to meet the bridegroom.

I am weary.

The struggles of this day have overcome me.

Father! all things are possible to thee,—

Oh let this cup pass from me! Nevertheless

Not as I will, but as thou wilt, be done!

What! could ye not watch with me for one hour?

Oh watch and pray, that ye may enter not

Into temptation. For the spirit indeed

Is willing, but the flesh is weak!

Alas!

It is for sorrow that our eyes are heavy.—

I see again the glimmer of those torches

Among the olives; they are coming hither.

Outside the garden wall the path divides;

Surely they come not hither.

O my Father!

If this cup may not pass away from me,

Except I drink of it, thy will be done.

Sleep on; and take your rest!

Beloved Master,

Alas! we know not what to answer thee!

It is for sorrow that our eyes are heavy.—

Behold, the torches now encompass us.

They do but go about the garden wall,

Seeking for some one, or for something lost.

If this cup may not pass away from me,

Except I drink of it, thy will be done.

It is enough! Behold, the Son of Man

Hath been betrayed into the hands of sinners!

The hour is come. Rise up, let us be going;

For he that shall betray me is at hand.

Ah me! See, from his forehead, in the torchlight,

Great drops of blood are falling to the ground!

What lights are these? What torches glare and glisten

Upon the swords and armor of these men?

And there among them Judas Iscariot!

Put up thy sword into its sheath; for they

That take the sword shall perish with the sword.

The cup my Father hath given me to drink,

Shall I not drink it? Think’st thou that I cannot

Pray to my Father, and that He shall give me

More than twelve legions of angels presently?

Hail, Master! hail!

Friend, wherefore art thou come?

Whom seek ye?

Jesus of Nazareth.

I am he.

Are ye come hither as against a thief,

With sword and staves to take me? When I daily

Was with you in the Temple, ye stretched forth

No hands to take me! But this is your hour,

And this the power of darkness. If ye seek

Me only, let these others go their way.