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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!


Gethsemane's sad midnight scene,
The faithless friends, the exulting foes,
The thorny crown, the insult keen,
The scourge, the cross, before thee rose.


Did not thy spirit sink dismayed,
As the dark vision o'er it came;
And though in sinless strength arrayed,
Turn shuddering from the death of shame?


But onward still, through scorn and dread,
Didst thou thy Father's call obey,
Steadfast thy path of duty tread,
And rise, through death, to endless day.