See the king in his majesty, full of power and glory.

The people sit at his feet, as he prepares to dictate his story.

A fable of wisdom and unending love. Like sweet music to the ears of his congregation, the most touching lamentation.

Matchless in wisdom and deeds is he.

I am his cupbearer, bringing the chalice of his people's prayers, the sweetest of aromas, a lowly cup-bearer, that he would choose me.

Who am I that he has given me such an honor?

Wisdom is not mine, and my deeds are rags to him, yet he charges me with his chalice, a lovely burden, no deceit, no malice.

An offering of drink unto the lips of the Blessed One, oh that I have the honor of raising the cup to his throne. My heart fills with joy when his hands touch the cup of my bearing, a touch full of his love. I never feel alone.

The chalice bears the prayers of his people, prayers of the brokenhearted, the sick and the needy, the orphan and the widow, the fatherless, the contrite and the sorrowful. This is his favorite drink, one of honor and peace, one for the powerful.

He calls me in the morning, he calls me in the evening, "My son, bring me my cup, this hour I drink the prayers of my people, that I might know their needs and hear their grieving..."

He motioned to the table of the Lord, full of blessing and love, adorned with the chalice of my king, bearing the prayers of the world!

I am cup-bearer to the king, I bear the prayers of his people, and the prayers of my own heart, pierced by sin's fiery dart.

He drinks it ever so faithfully, and blessings fall from his throne. I am drenched in the sweetness of his love, I never feel alone.

One night, I saw my master in the Garden. His face did not reveal the joy I knew, his eyes did not impart peace, like the softness of the morning dew.

Blood dripped from his hair, cries of an agonized heart burst from his mouth, too painful for me to bear.

No congregation sat at his feet, no one to listen to the tales of wisdom and love from the king, deadened silence filled the Garden, one could even hear the faintness of his heartbeat.

Darkness consumed the Garden, evil surrounded him. From his agony, he called out to me, "My son, bring me the chalice!" I looked for it, but could not find it for him.

He pointed to a table in the clearing, one bearing a chalice I did not know. Hatred, blood, sin, cries of scorn, scourging, sneer and a cross filled its brim, a cup so grim.

"My son, bring me the cup, this hour I drink the hatred of my people, I will become their sin and yours, as the light goes dim."

"My Lord, do not drink this!" I cried. " Only darkness and pain fill this cup, may it pass from you!"

"Indeed, yet it is not my will my son, but my Father's that must be done, for them and for you."

I am his cupbearer, I bore the chalice of the sin of his people and the sin of my heart. In obedience, I took the chalice filled with the hatred of his people and raised it to him, and weeping overtook him as he began to drink from the brim.

I, my heart filled with grief, ran as I saw my Lord transformed into Sin, and led away by his people to Calvary, I saw my Lord raised up, not in honor but in treachery. On a cross of sinners, an innocent man, nailed to a cross, his blood was on my hands....

Chalices of the millions were poured at his feet, filled with blood, with hate and with malice.

Cries of scorn swept the mountain of Calvary, where my Lord was raised. He cried out to me in agony, "My son, bring me my chalice! This hour I will drink the cup of judgment, that these who scorn and beat me may be forgiven, for an eternity of days!"

He motioned to a table before the temple, one that bore the law, hellfire and the chalice of God's wrath, a symbol of Heaven's warpath.

I am his cupbearer, I bore the chalice of the Lord's doom on his people and the doom of my heart, and in obedience I brought him the drink of his judgment, amidst a crown of thorns that penetrated his brow, I his cup-bearer gave him the drink of his suffering, at the pierce of the spear's puncturing.

From a broken heart, my master breathed his last, to the heartbreak of his father. I, his cup-bearer, gave him the drink of sin, my sin, the world's sin, that I in the pain of my soul should be asked to fulfill a task so grim.

His blood fell on me and with it, I filled his cup. It bore the sweetness that I remembered, a fragrance of redemption and love, like the gentleness of the breast of a dove.

His people, the ones that crucified my master, surrounded me and begged me for a drink. Without hesitation, I gave drink of the king's blood to them, and they were redeemed and forgiven, I didn't even have the choice to think.

I know now my purpose. I am my Lord's cup-bearer. I bore the cup of his people's prayers, I bore the cup of Sin and I bore the cup of the Lord's Judgement. At his command, I raised these three chalices to him on the Throne of Glory, the Throne in the Garden's Darkness and the Throne on Calvary.

He drank the chalices for me, his cup-bearer, his son and for all his children, that we would never bear them.

I am the cup-bearer to the King, and the chalice that's filled with the Blood of Redemption, may be given to anyone who desires drink, and they shall never thirst again.

Yes, I am my Lord's cupbearer, I bore the three chalices of his Broken Heart, and now I bear the Chalice of his Forgiveness, and I will share it with all who will be willing to drink. This is my master's cup, and whoever drinks from it will never perish, this precious truth, I his humble cup-bearer will forever cherish.

Joseph Vazquez III