�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.
