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THE BRAZEN ALTAR.
Fashioned of shining brass, God's Altar stoodFour-square—its pointed corners raised on high,
Like lifted hands appealing to the sky
In silence, touched with sacrificial blood.
Here, through the ages, on the typic wood
A myriad shadows of One Victim lie,
Feeding the sire which nought could satisfy
Till Calvary quenched it with a crimson flood.
“We have an Altar;” unto which we fly
Guilty for refuge. Glorious, strong to endure,
By faith we grasp it, and can never die;
For in God's ear it speaketh mightily
Of One whose sinless life and offering pure
Wrought for our souls a hope Divinely sure.
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