1 'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone:
'Tis midnight; in the garden now
The suff'ring Saviour prays alone.
2 'Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
The Savior wrestles lone with fears:
E'en that disciple whom He loved
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.
3 'Tis midnight; and, for others' guilt,
The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood:
Yet he that hath in anguish knelt
Is not forsaken by His God.
4 'Tis midnight; from ether plains
Is born the song that angels know:
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Savior's woe.
