Before the Throne of God on High,
All Adam’s race stands clothed in guilt:
With no relief from anguished sigh,
In works on which their hopes are built.
The One before Whom angels bow,
In righteousness rules over all,
Yet sinners He abideth now,
For mercy’s sake, the judgment stalls.
Before the Father’s Holy throne,
His Chosen One takes up the task,
Of winning sinners as His own,
Taking their judgment to the last;
The Father sees it not enough,
To reward Him with Israel’s race,
Nay, He asserts His boundless love,
And calls all nations to His grace.
Before Jehovah’s judgment seat,
The Son in agony doth cry:
Yet all His judgment will He mete,
To Christ He turns not pitying eye.
Till, “It is finished,” all is done,
The Trinity’s wrath is satisfied,
Now reascends the Lovely Son,
Now drawing those for whom He died.
Before the King, in Beauty Clothed
We stand as prodigals returned,
In perfect righteousness now robed,
From Him for whom our hearts now yearn;
Till in His presence, our faith fulfilling,
To harps of gold His praise we sing,
We strive each day, our hearts now willing,
Our lives a sacrifice to bring.