1 Over Kedron Jesus treadeth
To His passion for us all;
Ev'ry human eye be weeping,
Tears of bitter grief let fall!
Round His spirit flock the foes,
Place their shafts and bend their bows,
Aiming at the Savior solely,
While the world forsakes Him wholly.
2 David once, with heart afflicted,
Crossed the Kedron's narrow strand,
Clouds of gloom and grief about him
When an exile from his land.
But, O Jesus, blacker now
Bends the cloud above Thy brow,
Hasting to death's dreary portals
For the shame and sin of mortals.
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4 See how, anguish-struck, He falleth
Prostrate, and with struggling breath,
Three times on His God He calleth,
Praying that the bitter death
And the cup of doom may go,
Still He cries, in all His woe:
"Not My will, but Thine,
O Father!" And the angels round Him gather.
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6 But, O flow'rs, so sadly watered
By this pure and precious dew,
In some blessed hour your blossoms
'Neath the olive-shadows grew!
Eden's garden did not bear
Aught that can with you compare,
For the blood, thus freely given,
Makes my soul the heir of heaven.
7 When as flow'rs themselves I wither,
When I droop and fade life grass,
When the life-streams through my pulses
Dull and ever duller pass,
When at last they cease to roll
Then, to cheer my singing soul,
Grace of Jesus, be Thou given--
Source of triumph! pledge of heaven!
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