Throned upon the awful tree,
Lamb
of God, Your grief I see.
Darkness
veils Your anguished face;
None
its lines of woe can trace.
None
can tell what pangs unknown
Hold
You silent and alone.
2
Silent
through those three dread hours,
Wrestling
with the evil powers,
Left
alone with human sin,
Gloom
around You and within,
Till
the appointed time is nigh,
Til
the Lamb of God may die.
3
Hark,
that cry that peals aloud
Upward
through the whelming cloud!
You,
the Father’s only Son,
You,
His own anointed One,
You
are asking—can it be—
“Why
have You forsaken Me?”
4
Lord,
should fear and anguish roll,
Darkly
o’er my sinful soul,
You,
Who once were thus bereft
That
Your own might ne’er be left,
Teach
me by that bitter cry
In
the gloom to know You nigh.