#161Throned Upon the Awful Tree

Throned upon the awful tree, Lamb of God, Your grief we see. Darkness veils Your anguished face; None its lines of woe can trace.

Silent through those three dread hours, Wrestling with the evil powers, Left alone with human sin, Gloom around You and within.

Hark, that cry that peals aloud Upward through the whelming cloud! You, the Father's only Son, You, His own anointed one,

Lord, should fear and anguish roll Darkly o'er our sinful soul, You, who once were thus bereft That your own might ne'er be left.