Christ's Compassion to the Weak

With joy we meditate the grace

Of our High Priest above;

His heart is made of tenderness,

And yearns with pitying love.

Touched with a sympathy within,

He knows our feeble frame;

He knows what sore temptations mean,

For He hath felt the same.

He in the days of feeble flesh

Poured our His cries and tears;

And, though exalted, feels afresh

What every member bears.

He'll never quench the smoking flax,

But raise it to a flame;

The bruised reed He never breaks,

Nor scorns the meanest name.

Then let our humble faith address

His mercy and His power;

We shall obtain delivering grace

In the distressing hour.