Jesus, in Thee Our Eyes Behold

Jesus

in Thee our eyes be­hold

A thou­sand glo­ries more

Than all the gems and pol­ished gold

The sons of Aar­on wore.

They first their own burnt of­fer­ings brought

To purge them­selves from sin;

Thy life was pure with­out a spot

And all Thy na­ture clean.

Fresh blood as con­stant as the day

Was on their al­tar spilt;

But Thy one of­fer­ing takes away

For ev­er all our guilt.

Their priest­hood ran through sev­er­al hands

For mor­tal was their race;

Thy nev­er chang­ing of­fice stands

Eternal as Thy days.

Once in the cir­cuit of a year

With blood

but not his own

Aaron with­in the veil ap­pears

Before the gold­en throne:

But Christ

by His own pow­er­ful blood

Ascends ab­ove the skies

And in the pre­sence of our God

Shows His own sac­ri­fice.

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.

He ev­er lives to in­ter­cede

Before His Fa­ther’s face:

Give Him

my soul

thy cause to plead

Nor doubt the Fa­ther’s grace.