121 - ĎTis Midnight; and on Olivesí Brow
íTis midnight; and on Oliveís brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone:
íTis midnight; in the garden, now,
The suffering Savior prays alone.
íTis midnight; and from all removed,
The Saviour wrestles lone with fears;
Eíen that disciple whom He loved
Heeds not His Masterís grief and tears.
íTis midnight; and for othersí guilt
The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet He who hath in anguish knelt,
Is not forsaken by His God.
íTis midnight; and from ether plains
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Saviorís woe.