This Cup - A Poem

This Cup
By: Jeremy L. Smith
January 11, 2004

Immeasurable weight, ponderous pressure,
My body aches from each sinewy fiber.
The fate of creation, the preordained plan
Rests on the shoulders of this God-Man.

My Blood it doth drip, my pores give it freely,
This task is at hand; Father have mercy…
Abba! I cry; and Father! Exclaim.
Take this from me, my Glory reclaimed.

Crushed on all sides, pressed to my knees
This task is too much! Too much even for me!
Not my will be done, but instead yours
Abba, my father, I humbly implore

The hour is nigh, my betrayer at hand!
It’s time for this King to do what is planned.
Awake yonder men; pray for your souls.
This Cup is now mine; this King must now go.

This Chalice I take, unfettered and glad
This Cross I embrace neither angered nor sad
The scourge I endure, the Nails have now pierced.
My destiny is fulfilled just like You said.

Father, my Father, I can’t see your face!
The torment is too much. All this for Grace?
Yes, Yes, my Son; happen this must.
For if it did not; whom would they trust?

And so it ‘twere so, on that scandalous night
Omnipotent God humbled yet Right
Death, it embraced Him and bore him away
The Cup he did taste, whilst Mary did pray

Glory amazing, the Savior doth gleam
Shout to Lord! Man is redeemed
That Cup was so bitter, the Sins of world
Have all been erased; at Grace now unfurled.