YES, here He came to rest,
Who bore the heavy burden of our care
Within His gentle breast;
He came from paths by weariness beset
To seek the quiet shades of Olivet.
Behind Him all the strife,
The city’s hatred, and the unbelief
That sought to take His life.
With face upturned, and eyes with pity wet,
He sought alone the peace of Olivet.
See! on the dewy ground
He kneels to pray, Who never prayed in vain,
While angels watch around:
Here heaven and earth in sweet compassion met
Amid the verdant groves of Olivet,
O, eve, with starry train!
Wreathe round that brow an anadem of light,
And soften all its pain.
Enwrap Him, garments of the night, while yet
He weeps and prays on lonely Olivet.
O, city of His love!
For thee the Saviour’s heart is bleeding now,
He pleads for thee above.
Thy day of mercy dies, thy sun has set;
The Light of Israel kneels on Olivet.
Long hours, with silent tread,
Alone He walks amid the shadowing trees,
That whisper o’er His head.
For Him the suffering, and the world’s neglect,
Man in his home, and Christ on Olivet.
My pilgrim feet are here,
Treading these hallowed scenes made blest by Thee;
My heart is turned to prayer.
Ah! never can my soul these hours forget,
For I have been with Christ on Olivet.
Heyman Wreford.