 | Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 |  |
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XII. CHRIST's Agony in the Garden. Luke xxii. 41, 44.
See there, o'erwhelm'd with Agonies,
Prostrate, forlorn, my Jesus lies!
Panting, moaning, groaning there,
On the cold Ground, in midnight Air:
No Friend, no kind Assistant near;
No sympathizing Comforter;
But all alone, unheard, unknown,
To the dark Night He makes His Moan.
Malignant Spirits glare around,
And with their fiery Arrows wound:
Trying to add, with spiteful Pow'r,
New Horrors to the dismal Hour;
And in his tortur'd Soul to rear
The gloomy Standard of Despair.
The frowning Heav'ns tremendous low'r,
And murm'ring Thunders dreadful roar;
Then shot by sudden Vengeance dart,
And tear and ravage thro' His Heart.
Prostrate, forlorn, my Jesus lies!
Panting, moaning, groaning there,
On the cold Ground, in midnight Air:
No Friend, no kind Assistant near;
No sympathizing Comforter;
But all alone, unheard, unknown,
To the dark Night He makes His Moan.
Malignant Spirits glare around,
And with their fiery Arrows wound:
Trying to add, with spiteful Pow'r,
New Horrors to the dismal Hour;
And in his tortur'd Soul to rear
The gloomy Standard of Despair.
The frowning Heav'ns tremendous low'r,
And murm'ring Thunders dreadful roar;
Then shot by sudden Vengeance dart,
And tear and ravage thro' His Heart.
To his own Heav'ns He lifts his Eyes.
Father, remove this Cup, he cries,
This deadly Cup of bitter Dregs,
Mingled with Wrath and Pains and Plagues;
Dear Father, O! remove this Cup;
Or some kind Cordial in it drop:
Yet if thy Will decree it just,
That drink it I, or Sinners must,
Rather than they should taste the Gall,
See, Father; here I drink it all:
Thy Will it is I should atone,
And, Father! let Thy Will be done!
Father, remove this Cup, he cries,
This deadly Cup of bitter Dregs,
Mingled with Wrath and Pains and Plagues;
Dear Father, O! remove this Cup;
Or some kind Cordial in it drop:
Yet if thy Will decree it just,
That drink it I, or Sinners must,
Rather than they should taste the Gall,
See, Father; here I drink it all:
Thy Will it is I should atone,
And, Father! let Thy Will be done!
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The Father hides his wonted Smiles,
And all his Soul with Horror fills,
Transferring on his darling Son
The heavy Crimes by Mortals done.
And all his Soul with Horror fills,
Transferring on his darling Son
The heavy Crimes by Mortals done.
See! prest beneath the dismal Load,
He sinks, he falls, altho' a God!
A mortal Sweat bedews His Limbs,
And down his sacred Body streams;
See! how it bursts thro' every Pore,
Mingled with Lumps of clotted Gore!
His hollow Groans with mournful Sound,
Eccho thro' all the Garden round.
He sinks, he falls, altho' a God!
A mortal Sweat bedews His Limbs,
And down his sacred Body streams;
See! how it bursts thro' every Pore,
Mingled with Lumps of clotted Gore!
His hollow Groans with mournful Sound,
Eccho thro' all the Garden round.
While thus I view, with gushing Eyes,
My dear Redeemer agonize,
With crushing Sorrows overborn,
Methinks I see him wishful turn
His Face, where Love and Anguish mix,
And full on me His Aspect fix;
And from His Tongue methinks I hear,
These moving Accents strike my Ear.
My dear Redeemer agonize,
With crushing Sorrows overborn,
Methinks I see him wishful turn
His Face, where Love and Anguish mix,
And full on me His Aspect fix;
And from His Tongue methinks I hear,
These moving Accents strike my Ear.
“See, Sinner! see the cruel Load
“With which thy Sins oppress thy God!
“Thy Sins extort these hollow Groans;
“For thee, for thee thy Jesus moans!
“Thee so ungrateful, so unkind!
“So prone to cast Me from thy Mind!
“And can thy stubborn Heart endure
“To grieve, forget and slight Me more!
“Oh! canst thou hear these Groans and Cries,
“And thy kind Saviour still despise!
“Come, Sinner, view these Clots of Gore,
“And say, Wilt thou forget me more!
“Say, Canst thou view this mournful Scene,
And strait return to Sin again!
“What! Leave thy Saviour bleeding here,
“And go”—
“With which thy Sins oppress thy God!
“Thy Sins extort these hollow Groans;
“For thee, for thee thy Jesus moans!
“Thee so ungrateful, so unkind!
“So prone to cast Me from thy Mind!
“And can thy stubborn Heart endure
“To grieve, forget and slight Me more!
“Oh! canst thou hear these Groans and Cries,
“And thy kind Saviour still despise!
“Come, Sinner, view these Clots of Gore,
“And say, Wilt thou forget me more!
“Say, Canst thou view this mournful Scene,
And strait return to Sin again!
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“And go”—
—Forbear! my Lord, forbear!
Thy Words o'ercome me! Jesus, stay!
O here I faint and die away.
It kills me, Lord! but to suppose
That ever I should treat Thee thus!
No! rather stop my guilty Breath!
To treat Thee thus is worse than Death.
If I such Love as this forget,
Then let my Heart forget to beat:
If e'er I slight Thine Agony,
In that curs'd Moment let me die;
Or if I cease to love Thy Name,
Relapse to nothing whence I came:
If Sin be any more my Joy,
Me, with my own Consent, destroy.
Thy Words o'ercome me! Jesus, stay!
O here I faint and die away.
It kills me, Lord! but to suppose
That ever I should treat Thee thus!
No! rather stop my guilty Breath!
To treat Thee thus is worse than Death.
If I such Love as this forget,
Then let my Heart forget to beat:
If e'er I slight Thine Agony,
In that curs'd Moment let me die;
Or if I cease to love Thy Name,
Relapse to nothing whence I came:
If Sin be any more my Joy,
Me, with my own Consent, destroy.
Sin!—When I hear the hated Name,
With keen Revenge my Passions flame.
Ah me! that e'er my foolish Breast
Indulg'd the Monster as a Guest!
Caress'd him in my dearest Part!
Ah, this Reflection tears my Heart!
With keen Revenge my Passions flame.
Ah me! that e'er my foolish Breast
Indulg'd the Monster as a Guest!
Caress'd him in my dearest Part!
Ah, this Reflection tears my Heart!
What, blessed Lord! what shall I do?
I own I have indulg'd Thy Foe;
With my own Life the Monster fed,
That made Thee groan, and sweat, and bleed,
O could my Actions be undone!
O were the Race of Life to run!
Ye misimproven Hours! return,
Which now with flowing Tears I mourn.
Vain, fruitless Wish! the restless Wheel
Of Time moves onward, onward still;
Nor can Intreaties bring it back
To roll again its former Track.
I own I have indulg'd Thy Foe;
With my own Life the Monster fed,
That made Thee groan, and sweat, and bleed,
O could my Actions be undone!
O were the Race of Life to run!
Ye misimproven Hours! return,
Which now with flowing Tears I mourn.
Vain, fruitless Wish! the restless Wheel
Of Time moves onward, onward still;
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To roll again its former Track.
Blest Jesus! take each future Hour;
'Tis all the Amends within my Pow'r:
O may Thy Praise in grateful Song,
Forever echo from my Tongue!
O may Thy Love enflame my Soul,
While everlasting Ages roll!
'Tis all the Amends within my Pow'r:
O may Thy Praise in grateful Song,
Forever echo from my Tongue!
O may Thy Love enflame my Soul,
While everlasting Ages roll!
| Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 | |