We come not as the condemned before the bar,
Where Justice wields her unrelenting scar;
No guilty hands hang limp in dark despair,
No downcast eyes await the sentence there.

But lo! we stand before the Throne of Grace,
Where Mercy shines upon the sinner’s face.
Why, then, O soul, this sadness veiled in night,
When Heaven’s King invites thee to His light?

If thou wert called to justice’ awful seat,
Thy trembling frame might justly fear defeat;
But now the Sovereign in His silken love,
Robed in compassion from His throne above,

Bids thee approach with joy, with sacred fire,
And let thy countenance in gladness shine entire.
No more the weight of sin thy spirit binds—
The blood of Christ has loosed all guilty chains.

Lift up thy head, let holy delight arise,
Let praise ascend as incense to the skies;
For thou art favored, called, and dearly known,
Before the King who claims thee as His own.

Rejoice, beloved, in this boundless grace,
And meet His gaze with unveiled, radiant face.
The Throne that once would strike now bids thee sing—
Draw near, O soul, and worship Christ the King.