Saturday Morning.
“Who is this that engaged his heart to approach unto
me?”
—Jer. xxx. 21.
This is the day to tune with care
Each unseen chord within:
Would we for Sabbaths well prepare,
To-day we should begin.
Before the Majesty of Heaven
To-morrow we appear;
No honour half so great is given,
Throughout man’s sojourn here.
Yet if his heart be not prepared,
His soul not meetly drest,
In vain that honour will be shared,—
No smile will greet the guest.
We must beforehand lay aside
Our own polluted dress,
And wear the robe of Jesu’s bride,—
His spotless righteousness.
We must forsake this world below,
Forget all earthly things;
Strive with a seraph’s love to glow,
And soar on angel wings.
The altar must be cleansed to-day,
Meet for the offered Lamb;
The wood in order we must lay,
And wait to-morrow’s flame,.
Lord of the Sacrifice we bring,
To thee our hopes aspire;
Our Prophet, our High-Priest, and King,
Send down the sacred fire.