Great High Priest, We See Thee Stooping

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 from 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.