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 calls 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 'em 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.]