“My Lord God, is that you,
This strange thing must I do;
In taking my dear son unto Moriah,
To have him harshly bound
And flung upon the ground,
A sacrifice consumed with holy fire?”
“Yes friend, that was my voice.
I’m giving you the choice
To render all according to my will.
The child you had from me,
And now I plan to see
If you intend to trust my wisdom still.”
We know the glad outcome,
Young Isaac rescued from
His father’s hand poised high with gleaming blade.
An angel halts the knife:
“Take not the young lad’s life.
Your precious faith in God has been displayed.”
And do we all not yearn
In each our ways to earn
The thrilling blessing of the Lord’s “well done”?
Who knows what test will try
Our mettle bye and bye,
In giving up a treasure, dream or son?
For no delight on earth
May jeopardize the worth
Of growing in the Lord’s love, hour by hour.
Perhaps He may require
That loved thing for the fire,
To give it back in resurrection power.
