How precious, Lord, Thy sacred Word,
What light and joy those leaves afford
To souls in deep distress!
Thy precepts guide our doubtful way,
Thy fear forbids our feet to stray,
Thy promise leads to rest.

Thy threat’nings wake our slum’bring eyes,
And warn us where our danger lies;
But ’tis Thy Gospel, Lord,
That makes the guilty conscience clean,
Converts the soul, and conquers sin,
And gives a free reward.

My Bible, precious treasure!
Worth more than gems or gold;
Be it my choicest treasure
Thy covers to unfold.
Thy fair illumined pages
With God’s own glory shine;
Down through the long, long ages,
It gleams in ev’ry line.

Refrain

My precious Bible! ’tis a book divine,
Where heavenly truth and mercy shine,
And wisdom speaks in ev’ry line,
Speaks to me, speaks to me,
Speaks good news to me.

For God’s exceeding glory,
His very life is love;
All through His sacred story
Its splendor is inwove.
It glows in man’s creation,
And O! more radiant still,
In His complete salvation,
From sin and mortal ill.

Refrain

I read and weep and wonder,
How God, a holy God,
Could still the law’s wild thunder,
With mercy, gentle word.
How raise the pale transgressor,
Bow low with pain and fear,
And make him Heav’n’s possessor,
With Christ, the Son, an heir.

Refrain

O, marvelous relation!
O, tender, pitying love!
Of saints the admiration,
The song of host above.
Be this my wondrous story,
My daily, fresh delight,
And in this flood of glory,
My soul be ever bright.

Refrain

O the joy while thus we meet,
Learning here at Jesus’ feet
Words of truth that point the way
To realms of day!
Precious words of worth untold,
Ever new but never old,
May we read them o’er and o’er,
And love them more.

Words that tell of Him Who came
In His Father’s blessèd name;
And the angels at His birth
Sang “Peace on earth”;
Words that tell His love to men,
How He died and rose again,
To provide a mansion fair
That we might share.

Words that kindly say to all,
While their tones like music fall,
“Come to Jesus while you may;
He calls today”;
If our heart we open wide,
He will then with us abide;
We may dwell with Him above,
Where all is love.

There’s a picture fair and bright,
Hanging still on memory’s wall:
There I see my father take the Book divine;
Dear home faces gathered round,
As the shadows softly fall,
And a light from out the pages seems to shine.

Refrain

Dear old Book, precious Book,
On thy pages soiled and worn I love to look!
O thou balm for hearts that ache,
For my sainted mother’s sake,
Thou art dearer day by day, thou blessèd Book!

While I look, the pictures change,
And I see my mother’s face;
In her hand the Bible, worn and stained with tears;
But the light is shining still,
And within the hallowed place
There is comfort for earth’s griefs and doubts and fears.

Refrain

O the blessèd days of old,
When I felt my mother’s hand,
With its tender touch of love upon my head,
While the old, old, story sweet,
Which a child can understand,
From the pages of the Book divine she read.

Refrain

When I long for voices hushed,
And the touch of vanished hands,
In the darkness when death’s angel spreads his wing,
Let me turn to mother’s Book,
With its comforts and commands,
For the peace and hope its blessèd pages bring!

Refrain