Tearful and trembling
How can this be?
The Son of God Himself
Anguished in Gethsemane
Say it is not so
Lord, say it is not true
That nigh unto death
Blood sweats from You
Calvary is bitter
Horror beyond compare
Yet in the secret garden
You die nearly here
Not from thorns
Nor from being pierced
Not from a Cross
Nor from lashings fierce
My Savior sweet
Prostrate on the ground
You approach death
For deepest grief You found
Sorrow upon sorrow
Pain upon pain
Beloved, You suffer so
That all others would gain
The weight of the world
Is upon Your precious heart
The punishment for all sin
That New Life would start
All transgressions You bear
Lord, this overwhelms my mind
The penalty You embrace
For all of sinful mankind
Drink of this bitter cup
Willing You are to do
Agony and torture
Relentlessly attack You
Tears I shed now
Is Your pain here forgotten?
Have I passed by Gethsemane,
My Lord, far too often?
For suddenly now here
I see what I never did see
Suffering beyond words
Yes, it overtakes me
Calvary is the culmination
Of the suffering You endure
Yet in Gethsemane I find
Darkest grief and love pure
Next to You I am, my Jesus
I want to take Your pain away
Yet You remind You came
That for my sin You could pay
If I can offer any comfort
If there is anything I can do
Lord, please let me help
Please let me comfort You
You look up at me
Through the pain You smile,
“Remember My anguish
When you suffer all the while”
Yes, I promise, my Lord
Your pain lies in my heart deep
A vision of Gethsemane
Always in my mind I shall keep
With joy, my Beloved
My cross I shall carry
If You call me to Gethsemane
Master, I shall never tarry
Your joy I always know
With You I unite in suffering too
Pouring of myself for God
Brings me nigh unto You
For in Gethsemane
The “Olive Press” by name
Even unto death, Your Will
And our Father’s the same
Pressed You were, Master
To exude precious oil
Anointed I am by God
Through Your own turmoil
It is my longing then
To live always for Your glory
Even if pressed like the olive
I shall proclaim Your story
Visit Gethsemane
Lord, I promise oft to do
Witnessing Your pain
All the more I love You
Sorrow upon sorrow
Pain upon pain
Beloved, You suffer so
That I should gain
You, my Savior sweet
Prostrate on the ground
Approaching death
For deepest grief You found
Tearful and trembling
Anguished in Gethsemane
My Master, my Beloved
You suffered all this for me