The Night of Weeping

 •  4 min. read  •  grade level: 7
 
The mansions of the great and the hovels of the poor were alike filled with the sobs and bitter groans of the bereaved. All the families of the great empire mourned in concert for their first-born sons, taken from them by a single stroke. The darkness of the night of judgment became resonant with a wailing for which there was no relief.
The name Bochim ("weepers," Judg. 2:55And they called the name of that place Bochim: and they sacrificed there unto the Lord. (Judges 2:5)) might well have been applied to the land of Egypt, for at midnight the haughty kingdom had suddenly been transformed into a nation of weepers. It was due to one proud man fighting against God and resisting His will.
Pharaoh, by his stubborn resistance to the will of Jehovah, had brought this lamentation and woe to his subjects. Proudly and persistently the great potentate had defied the Omnipotent of the heavens, saying, in effect, Not Thy will, but mine be done. He refused to free Israel, the first-born of God, from their bondage, well knowing and yet daring the dreadful alternative for the first-born of Egypt. Hence, through man's obstinate self-will, the hope and promise of a mighty nation perished in that night of weeping.
Leaving Egypt and its smitten households, let us draw near to Gethsemane and the Man of Sorrows. In Olivet's garden another midnight hour of grief rises ever and again before us. From thence come to us the cries of the Strong Man in His "agony" and His sweat of blood.
It is not now a myriad of grief-stricken voices rising from among the architectural glories of the dwellers on the Nile. In the quietude of the garden retreat outside t h e city, we hear one single voice, quivering from inward anguish in the fervency of its supplication, offering up with strong crying and tears that prayer of prayers, "O My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." Matt. 26:3939And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. (Matthew 26:39):
What a night of weeping was this! There in the loneliness of Gethsemane's garden, the blessed Savior and Lord became sorely troubled and very sorrowful, even unto death. There He fell upon His face, knowing fully what the morrow would bring forth for Him.
There His sweat became as it were great drops of blood falling down upon the ground. Thrice the perfect Man and Holy Son of God cried aloud in the night season to His Father, and was "not silent": "Take away this cup from Me: nevertheless, not what I will, but what Thou wilt" (Mark 14:3636And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt. (Mark 14:36)).
A stone's cast away are the sleeping disciples. B u t, beloved reader, let us not sleep as do others. Let us watch with Him one hour, even now. Let the privacy of our own hearts be the Gethsemane of our souls. There let us kneel with Him. There let us mingle our tears with His. There let us gaze with holy horror upon the dreadful cup, brimming with our sins and God's wrath, so soon to be drained on Calvary's cross. Let us seek to have what fellowship we may with the Lover of our souls in His great sorrow.
In Gethsemane's night of weeping, we hear the cries, not of the disobedient and rebellious, smitten for their sins, as in Egypt, but the anguish of the obedient Man, viewing His coming cross and death in the light of His own Omniscience.
After sorrow comes rejoicing. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:55For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. (Psalm 30:5). The noonday darkness of Calvary exceeded the midnight darkness of Gethsemane; nevertheless, there was beyond both a morning without a cloud or a pang—the morning of resurrection and heavenly glory. Here, darkness and tears; there, no night, no tears, neither sorrow nor sighing.
"Hark! what sounds of bitter weeping,
What submissive anguish deep!
'Tis the Lord His vigil keeping,
While His followers sink in sleep.
Ah, my soul, He loved thee;
Yes, He gave Himself for me.
"He is speaking to His Father,
Tasting deep that bitter cup;
Yet He takes it, willing rather
For our sakes to drink it up.
With what love He loved me;
Gave Himself, my soul, for thee.
"Then His closing scene of anguish!
All God's waves and billows roll
Over Him, there left to languish
On the cross, to save my soul.
Matchless love, how vast, how free!
Jesus gave Himself for me.
"Hark again! His cries are waking
Echoes on dark Calvary's hill;
God, My God, art Thou forsaking
Him who always did Thy will?
Ah, my soul, it was for thee,
Yes, He gave Himself for me."