tr., John Brownlie
He climbed the slopes of Olivet
When came the hour of prayer,
And in the stillness, Christ with God
Held close communion there.
Then all the noise of life was still,
And all the tongues that fret;
And peace His troubled heart possessed,
Which waiting spirits get.
Then sank life's tumult like the waves
On Galilee that frowned;
And in the depth of love divine,
The hate of man was drowned.
Lord, when my soul by carking care,
Has lost its needful rest,
Lead me to where the voice is heard
That comforts the distressed.
That even now, in distant days,
My longing soul may get
The rich supplies of grace divine,
That hallowed Olivet.