Let this Cup Pass from me.
Let this cup pass, my Father! I am sinking
In the deep waters which surround my soul,
And bitter grows the draught which I am drinking,
And higher rise the waves which round me roll. Life hath not laid her hand upon me lightly;
I have known sorrow, disappointment, pain;
Have seen hope clouded when it burned most brightly,
And false love fade, and falser friendship wane. But now fresh chains about my heart are linking,
And to my lips is pressed a fuller cup,
And from the draught my shuddering soul is shrinking;
Father, I cannot, cannot drink it up. What have I said? Will not thy grace sustain me?
Is thine arm shortened that it cannot save?
Powerless, indeed, if thou, my God, disdain me,
I can do all things with the help I crave. Haste thee to help me, that on thee depending,
I may have strength to say, "Thy will be done."
If this cup may not pass, thine angel sending,
Aid me as thou of old didst aid thy Son. And thou, my Saviour, once our weakness sharing,
Tempted in all things, yet untouched by sin,
Hear my wild cry; leave not my soul despairing;
Help me the cross to bear, the crown to win.
—Lyra Domestica.