1 Jesus, in thee our eyes behold A thousand glories more Than the rich gems and polish'd gold The sons of Aaron wore.
2 They first their own burnt-offerings brought To purge themselves from sin; Thy life was pure without a spot, And all thy nature clean.
3 [Fresh blood as constant as the day Was on their altar spilt; But thy one offering takes away For ever all our guilt.]
4 [Their priesthood ran thro' several hands. For mortal was their race; Thy never-changing office stands Eternal as thy days.]
5 [Once in the circuit of a year With blood, but not his own, Aaron within the veil appears Before the golden throne;
6 But Christ by his own powerful blood Ascends above the skies, And in the presence of our God Shews his own sacrifice.]
7 Jesus, the King of Glory, reigns On Sion's heavenly hill, Looks like a lamb that has been slain, And wears his priesthood still.
8 He ever lives to intercede Before his Father's face; Give him, my soul, thy cause to plead, Nor doubt the Father's grace.