'Tis Midnight, and on Olive's Brow
'Tis Midnight, and on Olive's brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
'Tis midnight; in the garden, now
The suffering Savior prays alone.
'Tis midnight, and from all removed,
The Savior wrestles lone with fears;
Even that disciple whom He loved
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.
'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.
'Tis midnight, and from etherplains
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Savior's woe.
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