How shall a contrite spirit pray,

A broken heart its griefs make known,

A weary wanderer find the way

To peace and rest?--Through Christ alone.

He died that we might die to sin;

He rose, that, we to God might rise;

By His own blood He enter'd in

The holy place beyond the skies.

There, as our great High Priest He stands,

And pleads before the Mercy-seat,

Our cause is in His faithful hands,

Our enemies beneath his feet.

Father, in Him we claim our part,

For Thy Son's sake accept us now,

In Him well-pleased Thou always art,

Well pleased with us through Him be Thou.

O look on thine anointed One;

Thy gift in Him is all our plea,

Our righteousness,--what He hath done;

Our prayer--His prayer for us to Thee.

So, while He intercedes above,

In His dear name may we believe,

And all the fulness of Thy love

Into our inmost souls receive.