229. C. M. Haweis. Agony in the Garden.

1 Dark was the night and cold the ground
On which the Lord was laid;
His sweat like drops of blood ran down;
In agony he prayed, --

2 |Father, remove this bitter cup,
If such thy sacred will;
If not, content to drink it up,
Thy pleasure I fulfil.|

3 Go to the garden, sinner; see
Those precious drops that flow;
The heavy load he bore for thee;
For thee he lies so low.

4 Then learn of him the cross to bear;
Thy Father's will obey;
And, when temptations press thee near,
Awake to watch and pray.