Foolish we may often be, yet we cannot accept this Gethsemane for a garden of the gods; the most wilful lotus-eater must perforce see the streaming tears, the stain of blood, the shadow of death.

A brother or father turning against one in the hour of trouble, a friend sleeping in the Gethsemane of our mortal anguish, does not always find us armed with divine patience.

Nay, of Gethsemane To thee and me, of passion and of prayer!

Think of Gethsemane with its bloody sweat; there we see the love of Jesus.