Great Drops of Blood

Asleep for sorrow,

Under the struggling olive

I dream a death tomorrow;

A searing, thirsty end of life

And in the mist of dark-night terrors,

I see from heaven falling,

Great drops of blood.

Great drops of blood,

Great drops of blood are falling,

And the ground is turning red, red

Around my feet, so I wonder

 If I am finally over, if I am really done,

 Bleeding out, alone, in a garden,

Beside a dying tree.

Beside a dying tree,

No, not alone, someone else is here,

Another with me- silent but not hiding-

 He’s working in the garden, kneeling,

Weeding, kneading the earth in his hands,

But he must be worried about what he is seeing;

 For he is praying, “Lord help me,

 This soil doesn’t have what it needs.”

Yes, there’s a brother here with me, working

 Hard in the garden, sowing, sweating

Great drops of blood

Great drops of blood,

Great drops of blood are falling,

Now even my sleep is turning red, full red

For my garden-dream is filling

 With water turned like wine

 With water pure as wine

And the yellow grasses in this dusty spot,

These drying flowers in this worn out plot,

Bath in living water flowing free

From a dying tree.

Water from a dying tree,

Yes, it’s flowing free, it’s flowing free

Holy water is running, it’s flowing past

Me standing still here; covering my filthy past

Running over my feet; washing them clean,

And this dying world is changing now

Sure a glorious sight, but growing kind somehow,

 Like burning bushes turning green.

 Like burning bushes turning green-

Yes, this truly is the strangest dream-

 But it’s the truest world I’ve ever seen

A Grace that’s running down the river

And it feels like it could rain forever;

Pouring, giving all the world a drink.

Forgiving all, who would but drink.

Forgiving all who would, but drink!

And I can feel my body shaking;

You know, when on the ragged edge of waking

As the flood pulls back and my mind grows clear

I hear my master’s voice growing in my ear

He is calling, telling me to wake up,

Kneeling in the darkness, he is telling me to rise up.

Yes, he is waiting, calling me to the fields

To watch for storms that yet may yield

Great drops of blood.

Asleep for sorrow,

Under a spreading olive,

I dreamt of Death’s tomorrow

And the perfect rain of holy life.

Now in the midst of passion’s flowers

I see from heaven falling,

Great drops of blood,

Great drops of blood.

 Luke 22:39-46