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'fore he cold-shouldered
cold feet in Gethsemane,
Christ had caught a chill.
'One of you here tonight will
- Achoo-das! - betray me.'
ShowYouLove Oct 2017
Keep Watch

Keep watch with me for an hour or so
Be vigilant for when I return you do not know
Keep watch through the darkest light
Keep watch and you will surely see the light
Be alert for the hour is quickly drawing near
For those who are prepared there is no cause for fear
Stay awake with me in the garden as I weep
Though it is hard, do not give in to sleep
Be with me as we walk side by side
Be wary when life is good of the sin of pride
Keep your eyes open and fixed on your savior and friend
And in the storms my Guardian Angels I will send
Can you not stay awake for an hour in the day
Are your eyelids so leaden that you drift off in slumber
Be watchful be awake for one day I may call your number
Are you ready when I come again in glory and power
Will you stand strong and tall where evil cowers
Are you open to the Spirit’s guiding
Are you filled with wisdom and understanding
Do you proclaim the good news and do so in the power of my name
Do you live in my love and are you forever changed
Do you seek first to understand then be understood
Do you seek to make peace where there is war
Do you work for the common good
The time is now, what are you waiting for
Open my eyes to see with your love and truth
Open my heart to the joy and faith of the youth
Open my life to your wisdom and plan
Open my soul as only you can
scar Jun 2015
If the Tiber floods and the Nile fails to
If the overflowing mouth of Tamesis runs dry
If the weeping willow withers as the blackthorn breaks
And the regal golden eagle fails to climb in the sky

If the dried-up land yields a drought so parching
That the overarching urge is to drink yourself drowed
If the Dead Sea waters lose their saline flotation
And the carrion-grabbing vultures wheel in from miles around

Then Gethsemane's gates will crack open just a little
And the flowers of the garden will give off a sour scent
As their brazen roots recall the night when they were fed with blood
Dripping softly on the hallowed ground of dying man's lament

If the water rises slowly and yet still without abating
If it swallows up the chariots of sun and man and steed
If the kings step out and stumble to the grave, their destination
Will be broken, bold and cheerless: will be harrowing indeed.

— The End —