O God, who didst Thy will unfold
In wondrous modes to saints of old,
By dream, by oracle, or seer,
Wilt Thou not still Thy people hear? What though no answering voice is heard!
Thine oracles, the written Word,
Counsel and guidance still impart,
Responsive to the upright heart. What though no more by dreams is shown
That future things to God are known;
Enough the promises reveal:
Wisdom and love the rest conceal. Faith asks no signal from the skies,
To show that prayers accepted rise;
Our Priest is in the holy place,
And answers from the throne of grace. No need of prophets to inquire:
The sun is risen; the stars retire;
The Comforter is come, and sheds
His holy unction on our heads. Lord, with this grace our hearts inspire;
Answer our sacrifice by fire;
And by Thy mighty acts declare
Thou art the God Who heareth prayer. |
