1 Saints, at your heav'nly Father's Word,
Give up your Comforts to the Lord;
He shall restore what you resign,
Or grant you Blessings more divine.
2 So Abra'm with obedient Hand,
Led forth his Son, at God's Command;
The Wood, the Fire, the Knife he took;
His Arm prepar'd the dreadful Stroke.
3 "Abra'm forbear,: the Angel cry'd,
Thy Faith is known, thy Love is try'd;
Thy Son shall live, and in thy Seed
Shall the whole Earth be bless'd indeed.
4 Just in the last distressing Hour,
The Lord displays deliv'ring Power;
The Mount of Danger is the Place,
Where we shall see surprising Grace.
|First Line:||Saints, at your heav'nly Father's Word|
|Title:||The Trial of Faith|