A short time before, Jesus had stood like a mighty cedar, withstanding the storm of opposition that spent its fury upon Him. Stubborn wills, and hearts filled with malice and subtlety, had striven in vain to confuse and overpower Him. He stood forth in divine majesty as the Son of God. Now He was like a reed beaten and bent by the angry storm. He had approached the consummation of His work a conqueror, having at each step gained the victory over the powers of darkness. As 690 one already glorified, He had claimed oneness with God. In unfaltering accents He had poured out His songs of praise. He had spoken to His disciples in words of courage and tenderness. Now had come the hour of the power of darkness. Now His voice was heard on the still evening air, not in tones of triumph, but full of human anguish. The words of the Saviour were borne to the ears of the drowsy disciples, "O My Father, if this cup may not pass away from Me, except I drink it, Thy will be done."

Kort tid forinden havde Jesus stået som en kraftig ceder, der trodsede det uvejr af modstand, som rasede imod ham. Stivsindede viljer og hjerter, der var fyldt med ondskab og list, havde forgæves stræbt efter at forvirre og overvælde ham. Han trådte frem i guddommelig majestæt som Guds Søn. Nu var han som et siv, der svajer hid og did og bøjes af stormens rasen. Han havde nærmet sig fuldendelsen af sit værk som sejrherre og havde for hvert eneste skridt vundet sejr over mørkets magter. Han havde hævdet at være ét med Gud, som om han allerede var herliggjort. Han havde sunget sine lovsange, uden at stemmen svigtede. Han havde talt til sine disciple med mod og ømhed. Nu var den time kommet, hvor mørket havde magten. Nu lød hans røst i den stille aftenluft, ikke med sejrsklang, men fuld af menneskelig angst. Frelserens ord nåede hen til de døsige disciples øren: "Min Fader! hvis denne kalk ikke kan gå mig forbi, men jeg skal drikke den, så ske din vilje!"