Author:		Anon.
Musician:		Joan J. Pinkston, b. 1947

Oh joy there sitteth in our flesh, upon a throne of light,
One of a human mother born in perfect Godhead bright!

Touched with a sympathy within, He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what sore temptations mean for He has felt the same.

But spotless, innocent and pure the great Redeemer stood,
While Satan's fiery darts He bore, resisting unto blood.

He in the days of feeble flesh poured out His cries and tears,
And in a measure feels afresh what ev'ry 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 pow'r;
We shall obtain deliv'ring grace in ev'ry trying hour.