1 Saints, at your heavenly Father's word,
Give up your honours 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 race
"Shall all the nations learn my grace."
4 Just in the last distressing hour
Tie Lord displays delivering power;
The mount of danger is the place,
Where we shall see surprising grace.
|First Line:||Saints, at your heavenly Father's word|
|Title:||Submission and Deliverance|