By A Collection of Hymns

      C.M.
      1 WITH joy we meditate the grace
      Of our High-priest above;
      His heart is made of tenderness,
      His bowels yearn with love.

      2 Touched with a sympathy within,
      He knows our feeble frame;
      He knows what sore temptations mean,
      For he hath felt the same.

      3 He in the days of feeble flesh
      Poured out his cries and tears;
      And, though exalted, feels afresh
      What every member bears.

      4 He'll never quench the smoking flax,
      But raise it to a flame;
      The bruised reed he never breaks,
      Nor scorns the meanest name.

      5 Then let our humble faith address
      His mercy and his power:
      We shall obtain delivering grace
      In the distressing hour.