1 A voice upon the midnight air,
Where Kedron's moonlit waters stray,
Weeps forth in agony of prayer,
|O Father, take this cup away!|
2 Ah, thou who sorrow'st unto death,
We conquer in thy mortal fray;
And earth for all her children saith,
|O God, take not this cup away!|
3 O Lord of sorrow, meekly die;
Thou'lt heal or hallow all our woe;
Thy peace shall still the mourner's sigh;
Thy strength shall raise the faint and low.
4 Great chief of faithful souls, arise;
None else can lead the martyr band,
Who teach the soul how peril flies,
When faith, unarmed, uplifts the hand.
5 O King of earth, the cross ascend;
O'er climes and ages 'tis thy throne;
Where'er thy fading eye may bend,
The desert blooms and is thine own.
4 Thy parting blessing, Lord, we pray;
Make but one fold below, above;
And when we go the last, lone way,
O, give the welcome of thy love.