I have stood beneath the “burning mount”
And heard the loud trumpet sound,
While the thunders pealed and the lightnings flashed,
And the earthquake shook the ground;
And Moses himself, the man of God,
Who had braved the tyrant’s ire,
And cleft the sea with his shepherd-rod,
Yet quailed before Sinai’s fire!
How terrible was that mighty voice,
More dread than the lightning’s flame,
That there His holy and righteous law
Did to Israel’s host proclaim!
It exposed and judged all my words and ways,
And searched out the depths within;
I cannot abide in this awful blaze;
It has shown me I’m naught but sin.
Moses descends from the burning mount,
The tables are in his hand;
His face so reflects that condemning light,
No soul before him can stand
With the fiery law that convicts of guilt,
He speaks of the shadows of grace;
But till the true blood of the Lamb is spilled,
The veil must enshroud his face.
On Cal’vry’s mount I’ve adoring stood
And gazed on that wondrous tree,
Where the holy, spotless Lamb of God
Was slain for a wretch like me;
How my heart has stirred at that solemn cry,
While the sun was enwrapt in night,
“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”
Most blessed, most awful sight!
My sins were laid on His sacred head,
My curse by my Lord was borne;
For me a victim my Savior bled,
And endured that death of scorn;
Himself He gave my poor heart to win
(Was ever love, Lord, like Thine!)
From the paths of folly, and shame, and sin,
And fill it with joys divine.
And now I draw near to the throne of grace,
For His blood and my Priest are there;
And I joyfully seek my Father’s face,
With my censer of praise and prayer:
The burning mount, the mystic veil,
With my terrors and guilt are gone;
My conscience has peace that can never fail:
’Tis the Lamb on high on the throne!
J. G. Deck