1 A voice upon the midnight air,
Where Kedron's moonlit waters stray,
Weeps forth in agony of prayer,
"O Father, take this cup away."
2 Ah! Thou who sorrowest unto death,
We conquer in Thy mortal fray;
And earth for all her children saith,
"O God, take not this cup away."
3 O Lord of sorrow, meekly die:
Thou'lt heal or hallow all our woe;
Thy Name refresh the mourner's sigh,
Thy peace revive the faint and low.
4 Great Chief of faithful souls, arise:
None else can lead the martyr-band,
Who teach the brave how peril flies,
When faith, unarmed, lifts up the hand.
5 O King of earth, the cross ascend;
O'er climes and ages 'tis Thy throne:
Where'er Thy fading eye may bend,
The desert blooms, and is Thine own.
6 Thy parting blessing, Lord, we pray:
Make but one fold below, above;
And when we go the last lone way,
O give the welcome of Thy love.
Amen.
The Hymnal: Published by the authority of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., 1895