A SAINT of old, to whom God swore,
For trusting Him in trial sore,
That He his seed would bless,
Has named the place where he obeyed,
A name that comforts souls dismayed.
Can you that comfort guess?
He whose devotion to God’s king
Provoked his father’s rage.
All unwise son, yet dearly loved,
As speaks the sacred page.
Where Israel stood to hear God speak,
And trembled at His voice.
To him the king God’s glory bore,
Which made his house rejoice.
What we need add to saving faith,
That we may never fall.
When he had found the Christ, he sought
Another soul to call.
The song that His redeemed shall sing,
When He shall save them all.
His name too sacred it would seem,
By surname he is known.
Blest was the sorrow he endured
In yielding up his own.
A church with God’s pure Gospel blest,
Yet now its bitterest foe.
The devil’s child, by judgment taught,
Was made Christ’s power to know.
The name by which God’s host was called,
When faith in God was low.