The High Priest. Ps. 45. 7, 8; Heb. 5. 6, 7
J. Hart L.M.
1
When Aaron, in the holiest place,
Atonement made for Israel’s race,
The names of all their tribes expressed,
He wore conspicuous on his breast.
2
Twelve lettered stones, with sculpture bold,
Deep seated in the wounded gold,
Glowed on the breastplate richly bright,
And beamed with characteristic light.
3
His hands a golden censer held,
With burning coals and incense filled,
Which clouded all the holy room
With odorous streams of rich perfume.
4
And, lest the priest the place defile,
A costly, consecrating oil,
With mingled gums and spices sweet,
Had for his office made him meet.
5
The liquid compound from his head
Its unctuous odours downward spread;
Delicious drops, like balmy dews,
O’er all the man their sweets diffuse.
6
Arrayed in hallowed vests he stood,
Sprinkled with holy oil and blood;
The tabernacle’s sacred frame,
And all within it shared the same.
7
So, when our great Melchisedec
The true atonement came to make,
A holy oil anoints him too,
Richer than Aaron ever knew.
8
His body, bathed in sweat and blood,
Showered on the ground a purple flood;
The rich effusion copious ran,
To glad the heart of God and man.
9
Deep in his breast engraved he bore
Our names, with every penal score,
When pressed to earth he prostrate lay;
Shocked at the sum, yet prompt to pay.
10
The fragrant incense of his prayer
To heaven went up through yielding air;
Perfumed the throne of God on high,
And calmed offended Majesty.
