The heavens might well grow dim,
When this mortality had power
Thus to o’ershadow him;
That he who came to save might know
The very depths of human woe.
3 He knew them all,—the doubt, the strife,
The faint, perplexing dread;
The mists that hang o’er parting life
All darkened round his head;
And the Deliverer knelt to pray;