Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Sweat, pouring like blood
off his furrowed brow
choosing the agony
death on the cross
Bowed low in prayer
in the garden
within the city walls
feeling the tempter once more
submitting to the father’s will
the fulfillment of the ancient word
His fate sealed in the scrolls,
the prophets of old
Thy will be done.

March 21, 2008
Maundy Thursday
Luke 22:39-44

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