See Him in the gar­den lone,
Midnight dark­ness o’er Him;
None but God to hear His moan,
Naught but death be­fore Him;
All alone! All alone!
He the wine press treads alone.

All His friends for­sake Him now,
None with Him are stay­ing;
Bloody sweat up­on His brow,
To His Fa­ther pray­ing;
All alone! All alone!
He the wine press treads alone.

On Him all our sins were laid,
Thro’ Him came sal­va­tion;
He for us a ran­som paid,
Priceless, pure obla­tion.
All alone! All alone!
He the wine press trod alone.

Man of sor­rows! Born to grief!
For our sins aton­ing;
By whose stripes we find re­lief,
Our lost state be­moan­ing;
All alone! All alone!
He the wine press trod alone.