A Voice upon the Midnight Air

A voice upon the mid­night air

Where Ked­ron’s moon­lit wa­ters stray

Weeps forth in ago­ny of pray­er

O Fa­ther

take this cup away.

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.

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.

Great chief of faith­ful souls

arise

None else can lead the mar­tyr band

Who teach the brave how per­il flies

When faith

un­armed

up­lifts the hand.

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.

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.