Where High the Heavenly Temple Stands
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Where high the heav'nly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The patron of mankind appears.
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He, who for men their Surety stood, And pour'd on earth His precious blood, Pursues in heav'n His mighty plan, The Saviour and the Friend of man.
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Though now ascended up on high, He bends on earth a Brother's eye; Partaker of the human name, He knows the frailty of our frame.
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Our Fellow-suff'rer yet retains A fellow-feeling of our pains; And still remembers in the skies His tears, His agonies, and cries.
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In every pang, that rends the heart, The Man of sorrows had a part; He sympathizes with our grief And to the suffrer sends relief.
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With boldness, therefore, at the throne, Let us make all our sorrows known; And ask the aid of heav'nly pow'r To help us in the evil hour.