'Tis midnight; and on Olives' 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 burne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe.