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1850–1919

GETHSEMANE

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

In golden youth when seems the earth A Summer-land of singing mirth, When souls are glad and hearts are light, And not a shadow lurks in sight,

We do not know it, but there lieu Somewhere veiled under evening skies A garden which we all must see - The garden of Gethsemane.

With joyous steps we go our ways, Love lends a halo to our days; Light sorrows sail like clouds afar, We laugh, and say how strong we are.

We hurry on; and hurrying, go Close to the borderland of woe That waits for you, and waits for me - Forever waits Gethsemane.

Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams, Bridged over by our broken dreams; Behind the misty caps of years, Beyond the great salt fount of tears,

The garden lies. Strive as you may, You cannot miss it in your way; All paths that have been, or shall be, Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

All those who journey, soon or late, Must pass within the garden's gate; Must kneel alone in darkness there, And battle with some fierce despair.

God pity those who cannot say, “Not mine but Thine”; who only pray “Let this cup pass,” and cannot see The PURPOSE in Gethsemane.

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GETHSEMANE · Ella Wheeler Wilcox · Poetry Cove