Great High Priest, we see Thee stoop­ing,
With our names upon Thy breast,
In the gar­den groan­ing, droop­ing,
To the ground with sor­rows pressed.
Weeping an­gels stand con­found­ed,
To be­hold their mak­er thus,
And shall we remain un­wound­ed,
When we know ’twas all for us?

On the cross Thy body brok­en,
Cancels ev­ery pe­nal­ty;
Tempted souls pro­duce this to­ken
All de­mands to sa­tis­fy.
All is fin­ished; do not doubt it,
But be­lieve your dy­ing Lord;
Never rea­son more about it,
Only take Him at His Word.

Come, be­hold your Sav­ior bleed­ing,
Streams of mer­cy from Him flow,
Whilst be­fore His Fa­ther plead­ing
For those men who wrought His woe.
Lo, He cried, Fa­ther, for­give them,
Though they do My life pur­sue,
I am will­ing to receive them,
For they know not what they do.

Come, Thou ev­er­last­ing Spir­it,
Bring to ev­ery thank­ful mind
All the Sav­ior’s dy­ing mer­it,
All His suf­fer­ing for man­kind.
True re­cord­er of His pas­sion,
Now Thy liv­ing fire im­part,
Now re­veal Thy great sal­va­tion,
Preach His Gos­pel to our heart.

Lord, we fain would trust Thee sole­ly;
’Twas for us Thy blood was spilt;
Bruisèd Bride­groom, take us whol­ly,
Take, and make us what Thou wilt.
Thou has borne the bit­ter sen­tence
Passed on man’s de­vot­ed race;
True be­lief, and true re­pent­ance
Are Thy gifts, Thou God of grace.