#59Gethsemane

'Tis mid night; and on Ol ive's brow The star is dimm'd that late ly shone; 'Tis mid night; in the gar den now The suff'ring Sav iour prays a lone.

'Tis mid night; and from all re moved, The Sav iour wrest les lone with fears; E'en that dis ci ple whom he loved Heeds not his Mas ter's grief and tears.

'Tis mid night; and for oth ers' guilt The Man of Sor rows weeps in blood; Yet he who hath in an guish knelt Is not for sak en by his God.

'Tis mid night; and from eth er plains Is borne the song that an gels know; Un heard by mor tals are the strains That sweet ly soothe the Sav iour's woe.