How shall a contrite spirit pray,
A broken heart its griefs make known,
A weary wanderer find the way
To peace and rest?--Through Christ alone.
He died that we might die to sin;
He rose, that, we to God might rise;
By His own blood He enter'd in
The holy place beyond the skies.
There, as our great High Priest He stands,
And pleads before the Mercy-seat,
Our cause is in His faithful hands,
Our enemies beneath his feet.
Father, in Him we claim our part,
For Thy Son's sake accept us now,
In Him well-pleased Thou always art,
Well pleased with us through Him be Thou.
O look on thine anointed One;
Thy gift in Him is all our plea,
Our righteousness,--what He hath done;
Our prayer--His prayer for us to Thee.
So, while He intercedes above,
In His dear name may we believe,
And all the fulness of Thy love
Into our inmost souls receive.
Sacred Poems and Hymns