1 Before the throne of God above
Our Intercessor stands;
Pleads for his own with deathless love,
With pierced and bleeding hands.

2 The barren rocks of Calvary
Echoes his dying cries,
When Christ became, as sin for me,
A wondrous Sacrifice.

3 Not yet may victors' songs be sung
In realms of endless light,
Not yet the notes of triumph rung
By saints all robed in white.

4 Not yet do pilgrims' weary feet
Find sweet abiding rest;
But when redemption is complete,
We'll dwell among the blest.