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.