Our Lord's enemies, they found Him in Gethsemane

They took God's only Son from the olive grove

And I decry, that which is breathing tends to die



Oh my Lord, his last hours of sorrow

I implore my hope for tomorrow



Our Lord's enemies, they mocked Him as they bowed their knees

They put God's only Son in a crown of thorns

And I decry, that which is breathing tends to die



Oh my Lord, I hope I can find you

I deplore the way that they bind you



Our Lord's enemies, they killed Him on a torture tree

They sent God's only Son to a lowly grave

And I decry, that which is breathing tends to die