1 Victim Divine, thy grace we claim
while thus thy precious death we show:
once offered up, a spotless Lamb,
in thy great temple here below,
thou didst for all our kind atone,
and standest now before the throne.
2 Thou standest in the holiest place,
as now for guilty sinners slain;
thy blood of sprinkling speaks, and prays,
all prevalent for helpless ones;
thy blood is still our ransom found,
and speaks salvation all around.
3 The smoke of thy atonement here
darkened the sun and rent the veil,
made the new way to heaven appear,
and showed the great Invisible;
well pleased in thee our God looked down,
and called his rebels to a crown.
4 He still respects thy sacrifice,
its savor sweet doth always please;
the offering smokes through earth and skies,
diffusing life, and joy, and peace;
to these thy lower courts it comes,
and fills them with divine perfumes.
5 We need not go up to heaven,
to bring the long-sought Savior down;
thou art to all already given,
thou dost e’en now thy banquet crown:
To every faithful soul appear,
and show thy real presence here!
|First Line:||Victim Divine, thy grace we claim|
|Composer:||Isaac B. Woodbury|