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C. M.

Christ's intercession.

Lift up your eyes to th' heav'nly seats

Where your Redeemer stays;

Kind Intercessor, there he sits,

And loves, and pleads, and prays.

'Twas well, my soul, he died for thee,

And shed his vital blood;

Appeased stern justice on the tree,

And then arose to God.

Petitions now, and praise may rise,

And saints their off'rings bring;

The Priest, with his own sacrifice,

Presents them to the King.

[Let papists trust what names they please,

Their saints and angels boast;

We've no such advocates as these,

Nor pray to th' heav'nly host.]

Jesus alone shall bear my cries

Up to his Father's throne;

He, dearest Lord! perfumes my sighs,

And sweetens every groan.

[Ten thousand praises to the King,

"Hosannah in the highest!"

Ten thousand thanks our spirits bring

To God and to his Christ.]

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