We come not trembling to the Judge’s bar,
Where guilty souls in fear and shame would stand;
No thunderous voice condemns us from afar,
But mercy’s gentle scepter rules the land.

Why then, O soul, this sadness on thy face,
When thou approachest Heaven’s Throne of Grace?
If justice held thee in its stern embrace,
Thy hands would hang, thy eyes in dread abase.

Yet now the King in robes of love appears,
Silken with grace, with boundless favor crowned;
He bids thee draw with joy, dispelling fears,
And calls thee near where holy peace is found.

Let not thy countenance in sorrow bend,
But shine with sacred delight and holy fire;
For thou art favored, loved, and called His friend—
Come, child of grace, and lift thy heart entire.

The veil is torn, the blood has spoken peace,
No condemnation waits where grace abounds;
Rejoice, O soul, and let all mourning cease,
Before the Throne where endless mercy sounds.