I pray in my own Gethsemane, far from my Saviour’s tomb.
I’m down on my knees as I sob my pleas, alone in a dim lit room.
Though the blood doesn’t pour from my every pore. like my Saviour shed for me,
The tears it seems, shed their steady streams, from my eyes that no longer see.
It takes times like this, then it happens: a broken heart is made whole.
His love is felt, by the words that melt the ice from a troubled soul.
He speaks to me at length of strength, and a time so long ago,
When he offered free his gift to me, and I feel my spirit glow.
When I rise with the dawn, my trials are gone, and I feel the warmth of his light.
The sins of my past are forgiven at last, and are left with the dark of the night.
-Doug Garrett