A sacrifice unto the Lord
Was oft required in ancient years:
A bullock, dove,
Or little lamb,
With deepest penitence
And tears.
Sacrifices still are made
By those whose love is duty-driven;
And oh, what higher part
Is played
When sacrifice of self
Is given.
I've built an altar in my heart
Where I may ever freely bring
The fairest flowers
Of my soul,
And hymns of deep
Devotion sing.
And here I make the sacrifice
Of self each time that I replace
A thought of sickness,
Fear, or sin
With Christlike love
And healing grace.
When freed from stubbornness and strife
I lay my will at His dear feet,
I find the very gates
Of heaven,
And sacrifice
Most wondrous sweet.
