227. L. M. Montgomery. Christ's Passion.
1 The morning dawns upon the place,
Where Jesus spent the night in prayer;
Through brightening glooms behold his face,
No form or comeliness is there.
2 Last eve by those he called his own,
Betrayed, forsaken or denied,
He met his enemies alone,
In all their malice, rage, and pride.
3 But hark! he prays; -- 'tis for his foes;
He speaks; -- 'tis comfort to his friends;
Answers; -- and Paradise bestows;
|'Tis finished!| -- here the conflict ends.
4 |Truly, this was the Son of God!|
-- Though in a servant's mean disguise,
And bruised beneath the Father's rod,
Not for himself, -- for man he dies.