Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 116

Victim Divine, Thy grace we claim
While thus Thy precious death we show;
Once offer'd up, a spotless Lamb,
In Thy great temple here below,
Thou didst for all mankind atone,
And standest now before the throne.

Thou standest in the holiest place,
As now for guilty sinners slain;
Thy blood of sprinkling speaks, and prays,
All-prevalent for helpless man;
Thy blood is still our ransom found,
And spreads salvation all around.

The smoke of Thy atonement here
Darken'd the sun and rent the veil,
Made the new way to heaven appear,
And show'd the great Invisible;
Well pleased in Thee our God look'd down,
And call'd His rebels to a crown.

He still respects Thy sacrifice,
Its savour 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.

We need not now go up to heaven,
To bring the long-sought Saviour down;
Thou art to all already given,
Thou dost even now Thy banquet crown
To every faithful soul appear,
And show Thy real presence here!