Sion’s daugh­ter, weep no more,
Though thy trou­bled heart be sore;
He of whom the psalm­ist sung,
He who woke the pro­phet’s tongue,
Christ, the me­di­at­or blest,
Brings thee ever­last­ing rest.

In a gar­den man became
Heir of sin, and death, and shame;
Jesus in a gar­den wins
Life, and par­don for our sins;
Through His hour of ago­ny
Praying in Geth­se­ma­ne.

There for us He in­ter­cedes;
There with God the Fa­ther pleads;
Willing there for us to drain
To the dregs the cup of pain,
That in ev­er­last­ing day
He may wipe our tears away.

Therefore to His name be giv’n,
Glory both in earth and Heav’n;
To the Fa­ther, and the Son,
And the Spir­it, Three in One,
Honor, praise and glo­ry be
Now and through eter­ni­ty.