Not Mine
The olive garden to prepare.
With Zebedee’s sons and Peter
He prayed for the cup to pass,
Your will be done
Not mine.
Take this cup from me?
Yet not my will, but yours be done.
Point of death, the hour is here.
Fast asleep under the trees.
Vision of Isaac being prepared,
On his knees to be spared.
Sorrow in his soul was deep,
While his followers did sleep.
Hallowed be your name,
Your will be done
Not mine.
Without sin to confess.
Spirit is willing, but the flesh…
Visitation from angels,
Strengthening his agony.
Came to a place of trust.
Fully willing, he must.
Great drops of blood fallen.
Sleep on now unto rest.
Betrayed into hands of sinners,
Chief priests of the rest.
Shall kiss, that same is he.
My friend.
(by ScottM, a poem inspired by Jesus in the garden in The Chosen S5E8 and scriptures)
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