Poem March 2, 1935 Issue

The Cup

MARION ALICE BOWERS

And canst thou drink the cup? the Master said
To those who sought the glory of a throne;
And I, who in his footsteps fain would tread,
Must make this test mine own.

To drink the cup—it is not blind submission
To harsh decrees I may not understand;
I need not shrink and tremble at the vision—
The cup is in my Father's hand.

And yet it speaks a deep renunciation
Of all that quivering mortal sense would cherish;
And, drinking deep that bitter-sweet oblation,
Self-love, self-will, self-glory all must perish.

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