Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 117

Thou Lamb that sufferedst on the tree,
And in this dreadful mystery
Still offers'! up Thyself to God,
We cast us on Thy sacrifice,
Wrapp'd in the sacred smoke arise,
And cover'd with the' atoning blood.
Thy death presented in our stead
Enters us now among the dead,
Parts of Thy mystic body here,
By Thy Divine oblation raised,
And on our Aaron's ephod placed
We now with Thee in heaven appear.

Thy death exalts Thy ransom'd ones,
And sets 'midst the precious stones,
Closest Thy dear, Thy loving breast;
Israel as on Thy shoulders stands,
Our names are graven on the hands,
The heart of our Eternal Priest.
For us He ever intercedes,
His heaven-deserving passion pleads,
Presenting us before the throne;
We want no sacrifice beside,
By that great Offering sanctified,
One with our Head, for ever one.