1 Saints, at your Father's heavenly word
Give up your comforts to the Lord;
He shall restore what you resign,
Or grant you blessings more divine.
2 So Abraham 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 |Abraham, forbear, (the angel cry'd)
|Thy faith is known, thy love is try'd,
|Thy son shall live, and in thy seed
|Shall the whole earth be bless'd indeed.|
4 Just in the last distressing hour
The Lord displays delivering power;
The mount of danger is the place
Where we shall see surprising grace.