’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
Emmanuel wrestles
lone with fears
E’en the 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 Who hath in
anguish knelt
Is not forsaken by
His God.
’Tis midnight,
and from ether
plains
Is borne the song
that angels know;
Unheard by mortals
are the strains
That sweetly soothe
the Savior’s woe.
