Song Collection

’Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow the star is dimmed that lately shone: ’tis midnight; in the garden now the suff’ring Savior 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 heav’nly plains is borne the song that angels know: unheard by mortals are the strains that sweetly soothe the Savior’s woe.