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-off'rings 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 Off'ring takes away
For ever all our Guilt.]

[4 Their Priesthood ran through sev'ral 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 Vale appears,
Before the Golden Throne:

6 But Christ, by his own pow'rful 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 heav'nly 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.