Where'er the patriarch pitched his tent,
He built an altar to His God;
And sanctified, where'er he went,
With faith and prayer, the ground he trod.
Through all the east for riches famed,
(Heaven's gifts) he set his heart on none;
Nor when the dearest was reclaimed,
Withheld his son, his only son.
Wherefore in blessing he was blest;
Friendless, the friend of God became;
Long wandering, everywhere found rest;
Long childless, nations bear his name.
Nor nations born of blood alone;
The father of the faithful he,
Where'er his promised seed is known,
Faith's heirs are his posterity.
My God, if called like him to roam,
Glad may I all for thee forsake;
My God, what thou hast made my home,
Let me thy sanctuary make.
Thy law, thy love, be my delight,
Whate'er I do, or think, or am,
Walking by faith, and not by sight,
Like a true child of Abraham.
-JAMES MONTGOMERY.