O suffering Friend of human kind!

How, as the fatal hour drew near,

Came thronging on thy holy mind

The images of grief and fear!

2 Gethsemane’s sad midnight scene,

The faithless friends, th’ exulting foes,

The thorny crown, the insult keen,

The scourge, the cross, before thee rose.

3 Did not thy spirit shrink dismayed,

As the dark vision o’er it came;

And, though in sinless strength arrayed,

Turn, shuddering, from the death of shame?

4 Onward, like thee, through scorn and dread,

May we our Father’s call obey,

Steadfast thy path of duty tread,

And rise, through death, to endless day.