Angels from Heaven Strengthening Him.
1 Lord! in thy garden agony,
No light seemed on thy soul to break,
No form of seraph lingered nigh,
Nor yet the voice of comfort spake;
2 Till, by thine own triumphant word,
The victory over, ill was won;
Till the sweet, mournful cry was heard,
"Thy will, O God, not mine, be done!"
3 Lord, bring these precious moments back,
When, fainting, against sin we strain;
Or in thy counsels fail to track
Aught but the present grief and pain.
4 In weakness, help us to contend;
In darkness, yield to God our will;
And true hearts, faithful to the end,
Cheer by thine holy angels still!