Tis midnight, and on Olive’s brow

’Tis midnight, and on Olive’s brow
  The star is dimmed that lately shone;
’Tis midnight in the garden now,
  The suff’ring Savior prays alone.
’Tis midnight, and from all removed,
  The Savior wrestles lone with fears—
E’en that disciple whom He loved
  Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.
’Tis midnight, and for other’s guilt
  The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet He that hath in anguish knelt
  Is not forsaken by His God.
’Tis midnight, and from ether-plains
  Is borne the song that angels know
Unheard by mortals are the strains
  That sweetly soothe the Savior’s woe.
Mary Nissley

Indian Valley, VA, United States

Such an incredible song if played and/or sung with the pathos the words communicate!

The piano needs to be slowed down, and played with much more feeling.