Thy Word is like a garden, Lord,
With flowers bright and fair;
And every one that seeks may pluck
A lovely nosegay there.
Thy Word is like a deep, deep mine,
And jewels rich and rare
Are hidden in its mighty depths
For every searcher there.
Thy Word is like the starry host;
A thousand rays of light
Are seen to guide the traveler,
And make his pathway bright.
Thy Word is like a glorious choir
And loud its anthems ring;
Though many tongues and hearts unite,
It is one song they sing.
Thy Word is like an armory,
Where soldiers may repair,
And find for life's long battle-day
All needful weapons there.
Oh! may I love Thy precious Word,
May I explore its mine!
May I its fragrant flowers glean;
May light upon me shine!
Oh! may I find my armor there—
Thy Word my trusty sword;
I'll learn to fight with every foe
The battle of the Lord.
"He (Jesus) was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed."