1 Well, the Redeemer's gone,
T' appear before our God,
To sprinkle o'er the flaming throne
With his atoning blood.
2 No fi'ry veng'ance 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.]
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Well, the Redeemer's gone |
Title: | Christ's intercession |
Meter: | S. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |