182. Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow

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'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,
Emmanuel wrestles lone with fears:
E'en the disciple that 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 that hath in anguish knelt
Is not forsaken by his God.

'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.