The Repairer of the Breach.
By Eliza H. Morton
God’s holy law is like a wall
About His church below;
It warns men of the paths of sin
In which the wicked go;
And yet unhallowed hands have made
A breach within that wall,
And those who stumble at the breach
Full soon without will fall. A cry is made for workmen skilled
To haste to build the wall,—
To build where it is broken down,
O hear the Master’s call!
Lift up thy voice with trumpet sound
And show the child of God
Wherein he sins, wherein he fails
To honor Christ his Lord. The Sabbath day, sweet day of rest,
The day the Saviour kept
In life and death (for in the grave
That day He calmly slept)
Is by the church ignored and called
A Jewish day of naught;
Another day is lifted high
And as a Sabbath taught. Untempered mortar has been used
To mend the breach man made,
But better far it would have been
If God had been obeyed,
And now, O house of Israel, hear,
Thy pleasure do no more,
But keep the day that God has blessed
And blessed forevermore. Repair the breach with God’s own word,
In paths of safety dwell,
Delight thyself in Christ the Lord
And of His glory tell.
The heritage of Jacob thine,
A watered garden fair;
Proclaim the message of thy God,
And of His blessings share.
ELIZA H. MORTON.