Where high the heav’nly temple stands,

The house of God not made with hands,

A great High Priest our nature wears,

The guardian of mankind appears.

He who for men their surety stood,

And poured on earth his precious blood,

Pursues in heav’n his mighty plan,

The Saviour and the friend of man.

Though now ascended up on high,

He bends on earth a brother’s eye;

Partaker of the human name,

He knows the frailty of our frame.

Our fellow-suff’rer yet retains

A fellow-feeling of our pains;

And still remembers in the skies

His tears, his agonies, and cries.

In ev’ry pang that tends the heart,

The Man of sorrows had a part;

He sympathizes with our grief,

And to the suff’rer sends relief.

With boldness, therefore, at the throne,

Let us make all our sorrows known;

And ask the aids of heav’nly pow’r

To help us in the evil hour.