Within his tent the Patriarch sat, in Land of Uz of old,
Where prone before the Lord he oft his heart’s desire had told;
For sons and daughters, in their feasts, burnt offerings he had made,
That each one might remember God, most earnestly he prayed.
On such a day, while thus he sat, a messenger drew near,
Upon whose heels another pressed, who woeful tidings bore:
The Patriarch’s flocks and herds alike of camels, asses, sheep,
Were stricken or were ta’en away, with those who did them keep;
While, saddest news of all that day, he heard with utmost pain,
The desert wind their dwelling smote—his sons and daughters slain!
Then Job arose, his mantle rent, he fell upon the ground,
And owned the right of Him who gave, to take away and wound.
Through Salem’s gate a concourse moves; what tongue pre sumes to say,
Who is the One on whom the Cross is laid that solemn day?
To Golgotha His footsteps wend, His Cross is there up-reared:
‘Tis Jesus, who to cancel sin, has in God’s time appeared.
The soldiers take His vesture, but no rent they make therein,
His life He yields (none taketh it) a sacrifice for sin.
His blood is shed, the work is done; “‘Tis finished” now He cries,
While for the unjust dies the Just, a holy sacrifice;
And in the midst the temple-veil is straightway rent in twain—
Blest Lamb of God! Thine be the praise—Thy work is not in vain.
Thy precious blood for sins of all who trust Thee doth atone,
The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son; that blood avails alone.
The parted veil rent in the midst, the mercy-seat reveals;
While never more its mystic span the holiest conceals.
The Patriarch’s mantle-hem once more was, like his sorrows, healed;
The Temple-veil rent from the top, the mystery revealed,
The way into the holiest, a new and living way,
Iniquities and sins alike, for ever put away,
By Him who sits upon the throne, whom heavenly hosts adore;
The One who liveth, and was dead, and lives for evermore.
T.J.