THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.
Gethsemane! there's holy blood
Upon thy green and waving brow;
Gethsemane! a God hath stood,
And o'er thy branches bended low!
Upon thy green and waving brow;
Gethsemane! a God hath stood,
And o'er thy branches bended low!
There drops of agony have hung
Mingled with blood upon his brow;
For sin his bosom there was wrung,
And there it bled for human woe.
Mingled with blood upon his brow;
For sin his bosom there was wrung,
And there it bled for human woe.
There, in the darkest hour of night,
Alone He watched, alone He prayed;
Didst thou not tremble at the sight?
A God reviled! a God betrayed!
Alone He watched, alone He prayed;
Didst thou not tremble at the sight?
A God reviled! a God betrayed!
Gethsemane! so dark a scene
Ne'er blotted the wide book of time!
Oblivion's veil can never screen
So dark a deed, so black a crime!
Ne'er blotted the wide book of time!
Oblivion's veil can never screen
So dark a deed, so black a crime!
