Great High priest, we see thee
With our names upon thy breast;
In the garden groaning, drooping,
To the ground with horrors prest:
Wond’ring angels stood confounded,
To behold their maker thus;
And can we remain unwounded,
When we know ‘twas all for us?
Nothing but Thy blood, O Jesus,
Can our wayward souls convert;
Nothing else form guilt release us,
Nothing else can melt the heart.
Law and terrors do but harden,
All the while they work alone;
But the sense of blood-bought pardon
Can dissolve a heart of stone.
Jesus, all our consolations
Flow from thee, the sovereign good;
Love, and faith, and hope, and
All are purchas’d by thy blood:
From thy fullness we receive them;
We have nothing of our own:
Freely thou delight’st to give them
To the needy who have none.