H-162Night, With Ebon Pinion

Night with ebon pinion, brooded o'er the vale;

All around was silent, save the night winds wail,

When Christ, the man of sorrows,

In tears and sweat as blood,

Prostrate in the garden, raised His voice to God.

Smitten for offenses which were not His own,

He for our transgresses had to weep alone;

No friend with words to comfort,

Nor hand to help was there;

When the meek and lowly humbly bowed in prayer.

Abba, Father, Father, if indeed it may,

Let this cup of anguish pass from me I pray;

yet if it must be suffered

by me thine only son,

Abba, Father, Father, let thy will be done.