Draw near, ye weary, bowed, and broken-hearted,

Ye onward travelers to a peaceful bourne;

Ye from whose path the light hath all departed;

Ye who are left in solitude to mourn;

Though o’er your spirits hath the storm-cloud swept,

Sacred are sorrow’s tears, since “Jesus wept.”

2 The bright and spotless heir of endless glory,

Wept o’er the woes of those he came to save;

And angels wondered when they heard the story

That he who conquered death wept o’er the grave;

For ’twas not when his lonely watch he kept

In dark Gethsemane, that “Jesus wept.”

3 But with the friends he loved, whose hope had perished,

The Saviour stood, while through his bosom rushed

A tide of sympathy for those he cherished,

And from his eyes the burning tear-drops gushed;

And bending o’er the tomb where Lazarus slept,

In agony of spirit, “Jesus wept.”

4 Lo! Jesus’ power the sleep of death hath broken,

And wiped the tear from sorrow’s drooping eye!

Look up, ye mourners, hear what he hath spoken:

“He that believes on me, shall never die.”

Through faith and love your spirits shall be kept;

Hope brighter grew on earth when “Jesus wept.”