160
C. M.
The bitter cup.
Dark was the night, and cold the ground
On which the Lord was laid:
His sweat like drops of blood ran down;
In agony he prayed.
2 “Father, remove this bitter cup,
If such thy sacred will;
If not, content to drink it up,
Thy pleasure I fulfill.”
3 Go to the garden, sinner: see
Those precious drops that flow;
The heavy load he bore for thee:
For thee he lies so low.
4 Then learn of him the cross to bear,
Thy Father’s will obey;
And, when temptations press thee near,
Awake to watch and pray.