Great High priest, we see thee stooping,

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 patience,

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.