O Abraham, where are you now?
I climb the hill, I hide the knife -
and I must give my children up,
to satisfy the god of wife.
Will children come to speak of this?
Will Isaac, rising from the grave
as you expected, terrible,
redeemed by Him who comes to save?
At this late hour, a Lamb I'd take
to sacrifice in place of those
I love, and loved, and always will;
or ever ashes are my clothes.