'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone.
'Tis midnight; in the garden now
The suff'ring Saviour prays alone.
'Tis midnight; and from all removed,
The Saviour wrestles lone with fears;
E'en the 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 that hath in anguish knelt
Is not forsaken by His God.'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 woe.
By William B. Tappan