- With joy we meditate the grace
Of our High Priest above;
His heart is made of tenderness,
His bowels melt with love.
- Touched with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what sore temptations mean,
For He has felt the same.
- He in the days of feeble flesh
Poured out His cries and tears,
And in His measure feels afresh
What every member bears.