Gethsemane by Ruth Lees Olson

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Aug 15, 1916

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 43, No. 32.

Gethsemane

By Ruth Lees Olson

BY RUTH LEES OLSON

GETHSEMANE — I hear it ringing through the ages past and gone. Ever it brings the cry of One forsaken and alone, One who, from glorious entrance to the holy city fair, Sought the garden's brooding shadows, to wrestle with despair. After the joyous shouting and plaudits of glad acclaim, With waving of palms and olives, and praises for His name, After the flower-strewn pathway, and hosannas loud and clear, After triumphant greeting, with tribute from lips held dear, Come the darkening shadows, the night's sad vigils alone, Under the weeping olives, forsaken by all His own, With none to comfort and cheer Him, no one to wipe His brow Of the bloody sweat of His anguish. Alone He endures it now. Forth from Gethsemane's shadows, whence all forsook Him and fled, O'er the murmuring waters of Kidron, His weary feet are led, Onward to Calvary's mountain, bearing His cross of shame, With none to shout "Hosanna," no voice to praise His name. Upward toward heaven they raise Him, this Jesus who freely gave. Taunting, they cry: "Let Him come down! Where is His power to save?" But the bruised reed is broken, the loving heart is still, And gently they lay His mangled form in the tomb near Calvary's hill. The crimson fingers of morning draw back the curtain of night; And the sun, peeping over the top of the world, beholds a wondrous sight. For the seals of the tomb are broken, the stone has been rolled away, And only the open sepulcher greets the dawning of the day. Robed in celestial glory, with face all radiant with light, The Son of man and Son of God passed from their wondering sight. Finished the great atonement, the price of a soul has been won, And the angel's song floats back to earth as heaven receives its own. But each one who follows the Master must tread the selfsame way From the victory heights of a soul's new birth to the garden lone and gray, From the bloody sweat of Gethsemane to a Calvary crucified. Then — the slumber time of that "little while" in the rest of eventide. But the morning will dawn in splendor, and each heart respond to His love When He calls His own from death's prison house to their home in the mansions above.