The vail is rent: our souls draw near
Unto a throne of grace;
The merits of the Lord appear,
They fill the holy place.

His precious blood has spoken there,
Before and on the throne;
And His own wounds in heaven declare
The atoning work is done.

‘Tis finished! here our souls have rest;
His work can never fail :
By Him, our Sacrifice and Priest,
We pass within the vail.

Within the holiest of all,
Cleansed by His precious blood,
Before the throne we prostrate fall,
And worship thee, O God!

Boldly the heart and voice we raise,
His blood, His name, our plea;
Assured our prayers and songs of praise
Ascend, by Christ, to Thee.