1 Well, the Redeemer's gone T' appear before our God, To sprinkle o'er the flaming throne With his atoning blood.
2 No fiery vengeance now, Nor burning wrath comes down; If justice call for sinners' blood, The Saviour shews his own.
3 Before his Father's eye Our humble suit he moves, The Father lays his thunder by, And looks, and smiles, and loves.
4 Now may our joyful tongues Our Maker's honour sing, Jesus the priest receives our songs, And bears them to the King.
5 [We bow before his face, And sound his glories high, "Hosanna to the God of grace "That lays his thunder by.]
6 "On earth thy mercy reigns, "And triumphs all above;" But, Lord how weak are mortal strains To speak immortal love!
7 [How jarring and how low Are all the notes we sing! Sweet Saviour, tune our songs anew, And they shall please the King.]