O’ Gethsemane! Thou garden of grief,
That sanctum of solitude and sorrow;
Whence once I knelt by stone to seek relief
From anguish sore, that burned to the marrow.

In pain so grave this cup I wished away;
Yet like a lamb, to Father’s will, I bowed...
Sweat like stream of blood, dripped that night most gray;
Despite fears, I embraced my cup as vowed.

Disappointed by friends in time of need,
Betrayed with kiss most warm that sealed my fate;
Mean men seized and led me like thief in chain,
All my friends fled in fret for faded faith....

As Lamb of God, myself, I submitted;
To men I love, still me, they rejected.