University of Virginia Library

GETHSEMANE

Darkness and silence and the breath of peace!
Then, lo! a faint flush on the mountain peaks
That broadens, deepens, till the full-orbed moon
Soars in majestic splendor up the sky,
Blotting the stars out!
Be thou still, my soul!
We who revere the mighty men of old—
Sages and seers, and lords of high degree
Who woke the harp and lyre, martyrs who died
Defenders of the faith, and they who gave
Their life-blood gladly on the battle-field;
Kings who ruled grandly for their people's weal,
Wearing high crowns by right unchallengèd—
We roam o'er land and sea to tread the paths
Their feet have hallowed, and to kiss the sod
That was their birthright. What their hands have touched
We fain would touch; and what their eyes have seen
We joy to look upon.
Yet every man
Of woman born since first the world was made,
O fair white moon, hath gazed upon thy face,
Awed by the splendor of thy loveliness!
Poet or painter, priest or king or clown,
Noble or beggar, lover, peasant, slave,—
All have rejoiced beholding thee so fair,
Thou peerless wonder of the adoring skies!
Yea, every eye hath seen thee, even His
Who knelt in lone Gethsemane what time
His own forsook Him. Be thou still, my soul—
What the Lord Christ beheld thou seest this night!