Israel, In Ancient Days, Not Only Had A View Of Sinai In A Blaze, But Learn'D The Gospel Too; The Types And Figures Were A Glass In Which They Saw A Saviour'S Face. The Paschal Sacrifice, And Blood-Besprinkled Door,[1] Seen With Enlighten'D Eyes, And Once Applied With Power, Would Teach The Need Of Other Blood, To Reconcile An Angry God. The Lamb, The Dove, Set Forth His Perfect Innocence,[2] Whose Blood Of Matchless Worth Should Be The Soul'S Defence; For He Who Can For Sin Atone, Must Have No Failings Of His Own. The Scape-Goat On His Head[3] The People'S Trespass Bore, And, To The Desert Led, Was To Be Seen No More: In Him Our Surety Seem'D To Say, 'Behold, I Bear Your Sins Away.' Dipt In His Fellow'S Blood, The Living Bird Went Free;[4] The Type, Well Understood, Express'D The Sinner'S Plea; Described A Guilty Soul Enlarged, And By A Saviour'S Death Discharged. Jesus, I Love To Trace, Throughout The Sacred Page, The Footsteps Of Thy Grace, The Same In Every Age! O Grant That I May Faithful Be To Clearer Light Vouchsafed To Me!