1. O- ver Kid- ron Je- sus tread- eth To His pas- sion for us all; Ev- ery hu- man eye be weep- ing, Tears of bit- ter grief let fall! Round His Spi- rit flock the foes, Place their shafts and bend their bows, Aim- ing at the Sav- ior sole- ly, While the world for- sakes Him whol- ly.

2. Da- vid once, with heart af- flic- ted, Crossed the Kid- ron's nar- row strand, Clouds of gloom and grief a- bout him When an ex- ile from his land. But, O Je- sus, black- er now Bends the cloud a- bove Thy brow, Hast- ing to death's drea- ry por- tals For the shame and sin of mor- tals.

3. See how, an- guish struck, He fall- eth Pro- strate, and with strug- gling breath, Three times on His God He call- eth, Pray- ing that the bit- ter death And the cup of doom may go, Still He cries, in all His woe: "Not My will, but Thine, O Fa- ther!" And the an- gels round Him ga- ther.

4. See how, in that hour of dark- ness, Batt- ling with the e- vil pow'r, A- gon- ies un- told as- sail Him, On His soul the ar- rows show'r; All the gar- den flow'rs are wet With the drops of blood- y sweat, From His an- guished frame dis- till- ing\- World's re- demp- tion thus ful- fill- ing!

5. But, O flow'rs, so sad- ly wa- tered By this pure and prec- ious dew, In some bless- ed hour your blos- soms 'Neath the ol- ive sha- dows grew! E- den's gar- den did not bear Aught that can with you com- pare, For the blood, thus free- ly giv- en, Makes my soul the heir of hea- ven.