‘Neath The Old Olive Trees
Words and Music by B. B. McKinney
‘Neath the stars of the night
Walked the Savior of light,
In the garden of dew-ladened breeze;
Where no light could be found,
Jesus knelt on the ground,
There He prayed ‘neath the old olive trees.
‘Neath the old olive trees,
‘Neath the old olive trees,
Went the Savior alone on His knees:
“Not My will, Thine be done,”
Cried the Father’s own Son,
As He knelt ‘neath the old olive trees.
All the sin of the world
On the Savior was hurled,
As He knelt in the garden alone;
Hear His soul-burdened plea,
Let this cup pass from Me,
“Even so, not My will, Thine be done.”
‘Neath the old olive trees,
‘Neath the old olive trees,
Went the Savior alone on His knees:
“Not My will, Thine be done,”
Cried the Father’s own Son,
As He knelt ‘neath the old olive trees.
May my song ever be
Of the love proffered me,
By my Lord all alone on His knees:
Praise His wonderful name,
He who bore all my blame,
As He knelt ‘neath the old olive trees.
‘Neath the old olive trees,
‘Neath the old olive trees,
Went the Savior alone on His knees:
“Not My will, Thine be done,”
Cried the Father’s own Son,
As He knelt ‘neath the old olive trees.
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