Gethsemane

Verse 1

A voice upon the midnight air,
Where Kedron’s moon-lit waters stray,
Weeps forth in agony of prayer,
“O Father, take this cup away.”

Verse 2

Ah! Thou who sorrowest unto death,
We conquer in Thy mortal fray;
And earth for all her children saith,
“O God, take not this cup away.”

Verse 3

O Lord of sorrow, meekly die:
Thou’lt heal or hallow all our woe;
Thy Name refresh the mourner’s sigh,
Thy peace revive the faint and low.

Verse 4

Great Chief of faithful souls, arise;
None else can lead the martyr-band,
Who teach the brave how peril flies,
When faith, unarmed, uplifts the hand.

Verse 5

O King of earth, the cross ascend;
O’er climes and ages ’tis Thy throne:
Where’er Thy fading eye may bend,
The desert blooms, and is Thine own.

Verse 6

Thy parting blessing, Lord, we pray:
Make but one fold below, above;
And when we go the last lone way,
O give the welcome of Thy love.

Verse 1

Go to dark Gethsemane,
Ye that feel the tempter’s power;
Your Redeemer’s conflict see;
Watch with Him one bitter hour;
Turn not from His griefs away;
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Verse 2

Follow to the judgment-hall;
View the Lord of life arraigned;
O the wormwood and the gall!
O the pangs His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss;
Learn of Him to bear the cross.

Verse 3

Calvary’s mournful mountain climb;
There, adoring at His feet,
Mark that miracle of time,
God’s own sacrifice complete:
“It is finished!”—hear the cry;
Learn of Jesus Christ to die.

Verse 4

Early hasten to the tomb
Where they laid His breathless clay:
All is solitude and gloom;
Who hath taken Him away?
Christ is risen! He meets our eyes;
Saviour, teach us so to rise.

Verse 1

’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.

Verse 2

’Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
Emmanuel wrestles lone with fears;
E’en the disciple that He loved
Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.

Verse 3

’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.

Verse 4

’Tis midnight; from the heavenly plains
Is borne the song that angels know:
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Saviour’s woe.

We beseech Thee, O Lord, that Thou wouldst help us, while we lose nothing of our reverence, to gain much of childlike confidence that Thou mayest be our dearest faith, and not only our fear and our dread. We beseech Thee to help us now, by that spirit of adoption, whereby even we can take upon our lips our Lord’s prayer in Gethsemane, and like Him can pray ‘Abba! Father!’