All billows of the soul, e’en like His voice
That said of old—“Be still!” Sing me that strain,
“The Saviour’s dying hour.”
Jessy sings to the Harp.
O Son of Man!
In thy last mortal hour
Shadows of earth closed round thee fearfully!
All that on us is laid,
All the deep gloom,
The desolation and the abandonment,