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“Father divine,” the Saviour cried,
While horrors pressed on every side,
And prostrate on the ground he lay,
“Remove this bitter cup away.”
“But if these pangs must still be borne,
Or helpless man be left forlorn,
I bow my soul before thy throne,
And say —thy will, not mine, be done.”
Thus our submissive souls would bow,
And, taught by Jesus, lie as low;
Our hearts, and not our lips alone.
Would say,—Thy will, not ours, be done.
Then, though like him in dust we lie,
We’ll view the blissful moment nigh,
Which, from our portion in his pains,
Calls to the joy in which he reigns.
---Alternative verses---
"But if these pangs must still be borne,
And stripes, and wounds, and cruel scorn,
I bow my soul before thy throne,
And say, thy will, not mine, be done."
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1854 | # 130 | | 1851 | # 230 | | 1872 | # 111 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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WALTHAM
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1872
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 152 | Eb | | # 78 | Eb | | # 446 | Eb | | # 496 | Eb |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
