Common Tune

Hymn

Over Kidron Jesus Treadeth

OVER KEDRON JESUS TRAEDER · 8.7.8.7.7.7.8.8 · words Thomas Hansen Kingo · music Ludvig M. Lindeman

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Over Kidron Jesus Treadeth prec e strug nar for ious vil gling row us pure with and Kid pas this ling strate, the His and the with ron's sion dew, pow'r, breath, strand, all; once, flow'rs, in an ron Kid sad hour struck, heart Je so that guish with 4. See 3. See 2. Da 1. O But, O how, how, vid ver 5. tered ness, eth ted, eth By Batt Pro Crossed To ly of He af sus dark wa fall flic tread shad ar bit from grief ows rows ter his let bit the His ing an of ive the the ile ter ol soul that ex grew! show'r; death land. fall! on bless ies gloom hu told God grief eye some ed un His and man on times of ery In Ag Three Clouds Ev soms Him, eth, him ing, hour 'Neath On Pray When Tears your as He be a call sail bout weep blos you blood all bove bend y com His Thy their cries, cloud shafts drops that the He the their a with of in and can pare, sweat, woe: brow, bows, cup gar gar it Je Spir did flow'rs doom flock den's den den of sus, the the O His black E All And But, Round bear wet go, foes, now Aught With Still Bends Place not may er the are of ful Him of Him an heav fill gath mor whol and gels tion the for soul demp thus heir round sin sakes er. ing! en. tals. ly. thus the death's but guished blood, at to will, an shame free frame Thine, drea Sav ing ing My His the For From "Not Hast Aim World's Makes And For While the the the re my giv till Fa por sole ly dis O ry ior world en, ing ther!" tals ly, Thomas Hansen Kingo OVER KEDRON JESUS TRAEDER 8.7.8.7.7.7.8.8 Ludvig M. Lindeman, 1913

1.Over Kidron Jesus treadeth
To His passion for us all;
Every human eye be weeping,
Tears of bitter grief let fall!
Round His Spirit flock the foes,
Place their shafts and bend their bows,
Aiming at the Savior solely,
While the world forsakes Him wholly.

2.David once, with heart afflicted,
Crossed the Kidron's narrow strand,
Clouds of gloom and grief about him
When an exile from his land.
But, O Jesus, blacker now
Bends the cloud above Thy brow,
Hasting to death's dreary portals
For the shame and sin of mortals.

3.See how, anguish struck, He falleth
Prostrate, and with struggling breath,
Three times on His God He calleth,
Praying that the bitter death
And the cup of doom may go,
Still He cries, in all His woe:
"Not My will, but Thine, O Father!"
And the angels round Him gather.

4.See how, in that hour of darkness,
Battling with the evil pow'r,
Agonies untold assail Him,
On His soul the arrows show'r;
All the garden flow'rs are wet
With the drops of bloody sweat,
From His anguished frame distilling—
World's redemption thus fulfilling!

5.But, O flow'rs, so sadly watered
By this pure and precious dew,
In some blessed hour your blossoms
'Neath the olive shadows grew!
Eden's garden did not bear
Aught that can with you compare,
For the blood, thus freely given,
Makes my soul the heir of heaven.

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