IN lone Gethsemane, they say, one watched
While others slept, and told of what he saw:
And so we have the Gospel tale today.
It was dark that night, and the olive trees seemed bent
Almost to touch the ground. There were no stars—
No stars at all; no moon was due to rise;
Clouds hid the heavens; my eyelids swelled with sleep.
His agony strove in him.
The branches swayed
As if they felt the danger in the air,
And trembled with it. It seemed as if the grass
Shivered a little where I knelt, while he,
So far apart, and yet so close to me,
Wrestled with something I could barely touch
With timid fingertips of thought. I watched,
Till the grass slept and the trees stilled to silence—
Even the breathing of the world seemed gone,
So deep, so heavy, was the drug of sleep.
I watched. The weight grew till I felt as if
I could no longer bear the burdened thought;
But still I watched, and still I saw him pray;
And as he prayed, faintly I saw the light:
I saw the Christ, the Way of Truth and Life, Not Jesus, not our friend who walked on earth,
The holy Teacher—he would go, but this,
This vision of God's image, this would stay;
It brought the peace of God. When I saw this,
I saw him rise. If you had seen his face,
As I did then, you would not ask of God
More heaven. What I had seen of love
Was but a drop of the ocean to what he'd seen:
He had seen Love. He came, and it was light.
I stood for just one moment in that light,
While his eyes thanked me.
Then he turned and roused
The others and went forth to meet the world.
