C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Christ in the Garden

From ‘The Christian Year’

O LORD my God, do thou thy holy will—

I will lie still;

I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,

And break the charm

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father’s breast

In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile

With thy false smile;

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;

Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all

That hear thy call.

*****

Mortal! if life smile on thee, and thou find

All to thy mind,

Think who did once from heaven to hell descend,

Thee to befriend:

So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call,

Thy best, thine all.

“O Father! not my will, but thine, be done,—”

So spake the Son.

Be this our charm, mellowing earth’s ruder noise

Of griefs and joys:

That we may cling forever to Thy breast

In perfect rest!