How Sweet in Every Trying Scene

How sweet in ev­ery try­ing scene

That wounds the spir­it here

To feel that Je­sus bore our grief

And know He still is near;

O ye who o’er the couch of death

Your lone­ly watch have kept

Tho’ ang­uish rend your ach­ing breast

Remember Je­sus wept.

He groaned in spir­it while He spoke:

Where have you laid the dead?

Lord

come and see

they mur­mured low

He fol­lowed where they led;

Beneath a cold se­pul­chral stone

An on­ly bro­ther slept

And an­gels won­dered as they gazed

For lo! the Sav­ior wept.

How oft the pray­er our lips would breathe

The heart alone may speak;

How oft the pe­ni­ten­tial tear

Bedews the mourn­er’s cheek:

Poor child of toil

though dark and sad

Thy wea­ry lot may be

With few to smooth life’s rug­ged path

Thy Sav­ior wept for thee.