Christ's Midnight Prayer.

'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 remov'd, Immanuel wrestles lone, with fears; Ev'n the disciple that he lov'd Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

'Tis midnight—and for others' guilt, The man of sorrows weeps in blood; Yet he, who 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 Savior's woe.