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.]