My Saviour once for all,
In the garden, He did pray;
Drops of blood rolled down,
Oh take this cup away;
“Not my will, but Thine,”
These words He plainly said
For He knew that on the morrow,
He’d be numbered with the dead.

With lanterns and with torches,
With weapons for the fight;
They came and took my Jesus
Upon that lonely night;
They mocked Him, and they scoffed Him,
My Lord so good and true;
He bore it all with patience,
Oh sinner, it was for you.

There were no dear ones with Him,
The disciples had all fled;
Burdened with the cross
Up the hillside He was led;
The nails were then sent crushing
Through nerve, flesh, and bone;
Oh sinner, won’t you hear Him,
Or is your heart of stone?