Insight from Amy Carmichael

..Darkly distinct, he saw a vision pass.
Of One who took the cup alone, alone
Then broke from him a moan
A cry to God for pain, any any pain
Save this last desolation;and he crept
In penitence to his Lord's feet again.

...Never an angel told, but this I know
That he to whom that night Gethsemane
Opened its secrets, cannot help but go
Softly thereafter, as one much forgiven.
And never, never can his heart forget
That Head with hair all wet
With the red dews of Love's extremity,
Those eyes from which fountains of love did flow
There in the Garden of Gethsemane

Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow
Thou art the Lord who soothed the furious sea
What matter beating wind and tossing billows
If only we are in the boat with Thee?

Hold us in quiet through the age-long minuet
While Thou art silent and the wind is shrill:
Can the boat sink while Though, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?

By Amy Carmichael