1 With joy we meditate the grace
Of our High Priest above;
His heart is made of tenderness,
His bowels melt with love.
2 Touch'd with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what sore temptations mean,
For He has felt the same:
2 But spotless, innocent, and pure,
The great Redeemer stood,
While Satan's fi'ry darts he bore,
And did resist to blood.
4 He in the days of feeble flesh,
Pour'd out his cries and tears,
And in his measure feels afresh
What ev'ry member bears.
5 [He'll never quench the smoaking flax,
But raise it to a flame;
The bruised reed he never breaks,
Nor scorns the meanest name.]
6 Then let our humble faith address
His mercy and his pow'r;
We shall obtain deliv'ring grace
In the distressing hour.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | With joy we meditate the grace |
Title: | Christ's compassion to the weak and tempted |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |
Scripture: | ; ; |
Notes: | Public Domain. |