Hymn 114

1DARK was the night, and cold the ground
On which the Lord was laid ;
His sweat like drops of blood ran down ;
In agony he prayed.

2Father, remove this bitter cup,
If such thy sacred will ;
If not, content to drink it up,
Thy pleasure I fulfill.

3Go to the garden, sinner ; see
Those precious drops that flow ;
The heavy load he bore for thee ;
'Twas wrongs and want and woe.

4Then learn of him the cross to bear ;
Thy Father's hand adore ;
And, when temptations press thee near,
Awake to watch and pray.