| 1 | The darkest hour, Lord Jesus, that rolled o’er Thy blest head Called forth the sweetest fragrance that e’er on earth was shed That cup so full so bitter – the wormwood and the gall – Directly from Thy Father Thou didst accept it all. |
| 2 | What perfect meek submission!- Thy will, not Mine be done – Obedience full, unquestioned: perfection of aSon! Thus prostrate there before Him, Thy sweat as drops of blood – And so to be the Victim, the spotless Lamb ofGod! |
| 3 | Yet Thou, O holy Suff’rer, couldst “Abba, Father!” cry, Through all Thy woe abiding in sonship’s perfect tie. O glorious heav’nly Leader, perfect through suff’ring Thou; Captain of our salvation! With rev’rent hearts we bow. |
| 4 | Thou hast Thyself, Lord Jesus, our hearts’ affection gained. How can we give Thee comfort for what Thou hast sustained? Entire and full devotion alone can worthy be, Till, love to love responsive, Thy glorious face we see. Mrs GR Cowell – Little Flock Hymn Book 1951, 1973
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