The Cup

The Cup

Robert L. Withers

O Father let this cup please pass away

If it be possible, this I pray

I long to be with You always,

But to drink this cup is to drink the pain

And sin of all humanity,

It is to cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Born to drink this cup I know I am

From Mary’s breasts in Bethlehem to

This garden named Gethsemane,

Right named Olive Press, for my soul is

Pressed with impending death and separation,

And I will cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

From Mary’s arms to this garden cup

To sour wine offered upon the Cross

Which soon shall be, I’ll drink the dregs

Of humanity, of men and women,

Of boys and girls,

And as I drink my cry will be, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Down the corridors of time, from ages past

To ages future, as long as they shall last

I’ll go to each person who is living now,

Who has lived in the past and who shall live after now.

I’ll take their cups and pour in mine, their sin their death, all of their crime.

I’ll drink it down, all of their cups, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

My soul is sorrowful unto death,

I am pressed down with little breath

Left in this body, left in this soul,

But drink I must, and drink it whole, I must empty the cup

With all it contains, the death, the sin, the separation, the pain

And as I drink darkness will descend, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Who will watch with me this hour?

Who will resist Satan’s power?

Who will surrender his will to God?

Who will share my Cross, my shame?

Who will embrace Him who is despised?

Who will hear the depths of my cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I have drunk your cup of sins, I have drunk them

Little or big; black or white lies it matters not,

They have all separated you from your God.

I have drunk your pride and ego too, I have taken into me

All there is of you, my cry is because I bear your sins,

I bear you too, you are in my heart as I cry,   “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I must go now, my betrayer is at hand,

The cup I shall drink, it is in my Father’s plan,

I shall drink it for Him, and I shall drink it for you,

I shall drink the cup and enter the abyss of pain

And before the sun sets tomorrow, the heavens shall

Hear my cry,  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

But know that you are my joy and I did this for you,

To bring you home to my Father, and your Father too.

For after that questioning cry on the Cross, will be

“It is finished.” “Father into your hands I commit my spirit.”

I drank the cup of sin and death for you, a cup I’d not tasted till I drank it for you.

I now offer you my cup of love and life - forged on the Cross; what will you do?