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Alone thou trodd'st the winepress, and alone
through the dark valley went thy toil-worn feet,
betrayed, denied, deserted by thine own,
the agony, the shame, the death to meet
Alone, yet not alone; even on the tree,
whence, 'mid the darkness, rang the awful cry,
"Why, O my God, hast thou forsaken me?"
Thy God was there, thy Father very nigh.
O Lord of life, when heavily doth press
the load which each of us, alone, must bear;
when 'midst the crowd our utter loneliness
drifts on the soul the shadow of despair;
When friendship fails, the nearest earthly love
knows little of our heart's deep bitterness;
when all seems dark, within, around, above,
and Satan whispers, "Ye are comfortless;"
And in the last, the loneliest, hour of life,
when past and future whelm the soul in fear;
grant us in thee, amid, above, the strife,
our Father's arms to feel, his voice to hear.