Refusing the cup that would deaden pain
To drink the cup that meant our gain,
He, Servant of all, trod a thorn-girt path
To bleed and to die and give all that He hath,
His soul crushed down in grief's dark hour
That others might gain by His sacrifice power.
His priestly garments He laid aside
To wash the feet of the weary and tried,
His majesty linked with service so low,
He dared to stoop, that He might show
His power to bend, His joy to serve,
And touched His lip to the cup's cold curve.
(Matt. 26. 39; 27. 34; Ps. 116. 13; 1 Cor. 10. 16)
There is always something over when we trust our gracious Lord;
Every cup He fills o'erfloweth: His great rivers all are broad.
Nothing narrow, nothing stinted ever issues from His store;
To His own He gives full measure, running over evermore.
(Ps. 23. 5; James 1. 5)