The world in si­lence waits around,
The pen­dant branch­es sway,
While, in the sha­dows more pro­found,
The Mas­ter kneels to pray.

The hours of night go fly­ing on,
Fierce dan­gers haste the day;
’Tis now the Mas­ter seeks His own—
They need to watch and pray.

The foes of right­eous­ness awake,
They hi­ther press their way,
Their cla­mors on the si­lence break—
Awake, ye saints, and pray!

’Tis e’er in dark Geth­se­ma­ne
The Mas­ter strives alone,
Yet ev­er comes with ten­der care
To wake and warn His own.