With Joy We Meditate the Grace
 
1. With joy we meditate the grace
Of our High Priest above;
His heart is made of tenderness,
And overflows with  love. 
 
2. All touched with sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what sore temptations mean,
For He has felt the same. 
 
3. But spotless, innocent and pure,
The great Redeemer  stood,
While Satan's fiery darts He bore,
And did resist to blood. 
 
4. He in the days of feeble flesh
Poured out his cries and tears;
And, though exalted, feels afresh
What ev'ry member bears. 
 
5. He'll never quench the smoking flax,
But raise it to a flame;
The bruised reed He never breaks,
Nor scorns the meanest name. 
 
6. Then let our humble faith address
His mercy and His pow'r:
We shall obtain deliv'ring grace
In the distressing hour.
 
Text: Isaac Watts (1674-1748)