I
wondered why You were absent
When
I most needed Thee;
I
felt so alone in my suffering,
Yet
You promised You’d be with us in everything.
I
thought I was in my own Garden of Gethsemane,
Until
I saw Your footprints
And
Your drops of blood
That
eluded me.
I
looked around and I understood
You
knew every tree,
Every
shrub, even every blade
Of
grass in Your vicinity.
I
was in Your garden, not mine,
that beckoned me.
I
realised You were there still
Praying
for my weak soul to come to Thee.
I
will come, I will honour Thee;
Let
me first sit under this tree a while
To
reflect upon Your suffering.
-
Cathryne Allen
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