CCCXIX. The GOD of the Patriarchs preparing them a City.

I Am thy GOD, JEHOVAH said
To Abram, and his chosen Seed;
And still the same Relation owns
To each of Abram's faithful Sons.

Sov'reign of Heav'n, what Works of Love
So grand a Title shall approve?
What splendid Gifts will GOD bestow,
That all its high Import may know?

Not the rich Flocks and Herds that feed
Round Abram's Tents in Mamre's Mead,
Not Joseph's Chariot, nor the Throne,
Iv'ry and Gold of Solomon.

Not Canaan's Plains a Lot can prove
Proportion'd to Jehovah's Love;
Not Zion's sacred Mountain, where
His Temple glitter'd like a Star.

O'er Zion's Mount, o'er Canaan's Plains,
Oppression now, and Horror reigns;
And where the Throne of David stood,
His ruin'd Sepulchre is view'd.

'Tis in the Heav'n of Heav'ns alone
Thou mak'st thy wond'rous Friendship known;
A City there thy Hand prepares,
Fix'd, as thine own eternal Years.

Long as they reign before thy Face,
The blissful Nations shall confess,
Thy sov'reign Love has there bestow'd
Salvation worthy of a GOD.