Isaac: Is this our God who bids my father kill
His covenanted heir? How, if I die
Lacking manhood's seed, can I fulfill
God's oath that Abraham should multiply?
My guiltless father grieving must obey
And I submit, or in the desert flee
Like Ishmael to strange tribes, give up God's way,
And no more sing beside my mother's knee.
But God has always loved us, swift to save
From nomad raiders, Pharaoh's grasping paw,
From locust, drought, and storm. And last, He gave
Sarah a son despite old age's law.
The God we worship cannot wish us harm:
I'll trust His love despite the knife's alarm.
Abraham: Isaac yields to the sacrifice in trust
That God will give the covenanted race
To spring through him, numerous as the dust
Motes that dance along a sunbeam's trace.
Through fear of death—beyond, in spite of death—
I know God keeps His oath; brooding above
My anguished doubt, He treasures Isaac's breath,
Encompassing our promised seed in love.
