Once, on­ly once, and once for all,
His pre­cious life He gave;
Before the cross in faith we fall,
And own it strong to save.

One off’ring, sin­gle and com­plete,
With lips and hearts we say;
But what He ne­ver can re­peat
He shows forth day by day.

For as the priest of Aar­on’s line
Within the ho­li­est stood,
And sprin­kled all the mer­cy shrine
With sac­ri­fi­cial blood;

So He, who once atone­ment wrought,
Our priest of end­less pow­er,
Presents Him­self for those He bought
In that dark noon­tide hour.

His man­hood pleads where now it lives
On Hea­ven’s eter­nal throne,
And where in mys­tic rite He gives
Its pre­sence to His own.

And so we show Thy death, O Lord,
Till Thou again ap­pear,
And feel, when we ap­proach Thy board,
We have an al­tar here.