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Christ in the Garden


agony in the garden     Look, how he glows for heat!

What flames come from his eyes!

‘Tis blood that he does sweat,

Blood his bright forehead dyes:

See, see!  It trickles down:

Look, how it showers amain!

Through every pore

His blood runs o’er,

And empty leaves each vein.

His very heart

Burns in each part;

A fire his breast doth sear:

For all this flame,

To cool the same

He only breathes a sigh, and weeps a tear.

PATRICK CAREY

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