Thine Arm O Lord Of Old


Thine arm, O Lord, of old
In lands of desolation,
Enclosed an humble fold,
Redeem’d a congregation:
Our fathers, like a flock,
The great, good Shepherd led,
Gave water from the rock,
With heavenly manna fed.

A poor, afflicted race,
But in Thy name confiding,
They walk’d before Thy face,
Thou in their midst abiding;

While Satan’s fellest rage
With patient faith they bore;
Consumed from age to age,
Till known on earth no more.

Yet was a remnant saved;
Still wrestling with affliction,
Their foes they singly braved,
Beneath Thy benediction:
Again went forth the word,
Abroad the Spirit flew;
The voice of God was heard,
Creating all things new.

An hundred years are past,
Since that revival glorious;
And still Thy Church stands fast,
O’er earth and hell victorious;
The path our fathers trod,
Lay through Gethsemane,
Thither, O Lamb of God,
This day we follow Thee.

Thence borne to Calvary’s brow,
Thy griefs and sorrows viewing,
With heart, soul, spirit, now
Our covenant renewing:
Thy love we here record,
Our sins with tears bewail;
Thy blood pleads for us, Lord;
O let that plea prevail.

Through suffering, shame, and loss,
Through honour, wealth, and pleasure,

To glory in Thy Cross,
As our eternal treasure;
That Cross with joy to bear
Through realms that know Thee not;
And thus Thy way prepare,
Still be Thy Brethren’s lot.

Sacred Poems and Hymns