Words: Thomas Troeger (b. 1945)
Music: William P. Rowan (b. 1951)
Kneeling in the garden grass,
Jesus groans against his death,
“Let this cup of sorrow pass,”
while he prays in that same breath:
“Not my will but yours be done.”
When the massive Cross of wood
bends and bruises Jesus’ frame,
hear him seek eternal good
as he prays in Yahweh’s name:
“Not my will but yours be done.”
While the soldiers throw their dice,
they ignore their Victim’s groans,
lost to them the sacrifice.
And the prayer that Jesus moans:
“Not my will, but yours be done.”
Jesus gives one loud last cry
at the moment of his death.
While his prayer moves heaven’s sky
with his final, parting breath:
“Not my will, but yours be done.”
Quiet is the hollowed cave.
Peace and tears and grief descend.
Mourners offer at the grave
what they learned from Christ, their friend:
“Not my will, but yours be done.”
