1 'Tis midnight--and on Olive's brow,
The star is dimm'd that lately shone;
'Tis midnight--in the garden now,
The suff'ring Saviour prays alone.

2 'Tis midnight--and from all remov'd,
Immanuel wrestles lone, with fears,
E'en the disciple that he lov'd
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

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.

4 'Tis midnight--and from ether plains,
Is borne the song that angels know:
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Saviour's wo.