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tr., John Brownlie



He climbed the slopes of Olivet

When came the hour of prayer,

And in the stillness, Christ with God

Held close communion there.


Then all the noise of life was still,

And all the tongues that fret;

And peace His troubled heart possessed,

Which waiting spirits get.


Then sank life's tumult like the waves

On Galilee that frowned;

And in the depth of love divine,

The hate of man was drowned.


Lord, when my soul by carking care,

Has lost its needful rest,

Lead me to where the voice is heard

That comforts the distressed.


That even now, in distant days,

My longing soul may get

The rich supplies of grace divine,

That hallowed Olivet.

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