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VIESUS, while He dwelt below,

2 As divine historians say, To a place would often go;

Near to Kedron's brook it lay; In this place He loved to be ; And 'twas named Gethsemane.

'Twas a garden, as we read,

At the foot of Olivet,
Low, and proper to be made

The Redeemer's lone retreat : When from noise He would be free, Then He sought Gethsemane.

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VIESUS, while He dwelt below,

(2) As divine historians say,
To a place would often go;

Near to Kedron's brook it lay;
In this place He loved to be ;
And 'twas named Gethsemane.

'Twas a garden, as we read,

At the foot of Olivet,
Low, and proper to be made

The Redeemer's lone retreat :
When from noise He would be free,
Then He sought Gethsemane.

Thither, by their Master brought,

His disciples likewise came ;
There the heavenly truths He taught

Often set their hearts on flame;
Therefore they, as well as He,
Visited Gethsemane.

Oft conversing here they sat ;

Or might join with Christ in prayer ; Oh! what blest devotion's that,

When the Lord himself is there ! All things to them seem'd t agree To endear Gethsemane.

Full of love to man's lost race,

On the conflict much He thought;
This He knew the destined place,

And He lov'd the sacred spot ;
Therefore Jesus chose to be
Often in Gethsemane.

Came at length the dreadful night;

Vengeance, with its iron rod, Stood, and with collected might,

Bruised the harmless Lamb of God; See, my soul, thy Saviour see, Prostrate in Gethsemane !

View Him in that olive-press,

Wrung with anguish, whelm'd in blood ! Hear Him pray in his distress,

With strong cries and tears, to God :
Then reflect what sin must be,
Gazing on Gethsemane.

Gloomy garden, on thy beds,

Wash'd by Kedron's water-pool, Grow most rank and bitter weeds,

Think on these, my soul, my soul ! Would'st thou sin's dominion see, Call to mind Gethsemane.

Eden, from each flowery bed,

Did for man short sweetness breathe ; Soon, by Satan's counsel led,

Man wrought sin, and sin wrought death ; But, of life, the healing tree, Grows in rich Gethsemane.

Hither, Lord, Thou did'st resort,

Oft-times with thy little train ; Here wouldst keep thy private court,

Oh! confer that grace again : Lord, resort with worthless me Oft-times to Gethsemane.

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