‘Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
‘Tis midnight in the garden now
The suffering Saviour prays alone.
‘Tis midnight; and from all removed
The Saviour wrestles ‘lone with fears;
E’en 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, 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 Saviour’s woe.
Rev. Wm.B. Tappan/Wm.B. Bradbury