Mark 14
26 And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount of Olives.

‘Twas at that last and solemn supper,
    Before the scene on Calvary;
Our Saviour sat with his disciples,
    And sung a sacred melody.
And were that hymn a song of sadness,
    Or praise unknown until that hour;
Or melody by time made older,
    It then became a song of power.

It was the Lamb of God who sung it,
    When near his hour of agony;
And soon we see him in the garden,
    Of dark and cold Gethsemane;
“O Father, let this cup pass from me,”
    He cried in sorrow there alone;
And with the blood-drops on his forehead,
    Exclaimed, “Thy will, not mine, be done.”

O yes, our dear and loving Saviour,
    Could sing in spirit and with power;
And ’twas to bring lost man salvation,
    That brought him to that trying hour;
And while he bowed his head in sorrow,
    And to his Father told his grief;
As other eyes were dull with watchings,
    An angel came to his relief!

There’s none can know what Jesus suffered,
    Save those who suffer with him here;
‘Twas for their sins the Lamb was offered,
    For them he shed the bitter tear;
Then while we sing his endless praises,
    And triumph in his name and power,
O let us ne’er forget the garden,
    Nor yet our Saviour’s dying hour!


– Edwin C. Stiles, Portland, ME (published in an early Advent Review)