“We have not followed cunningly devised fables” (2 Peter 1:16).
Some tell me that the Bible
Is not God’s sacred Word,
And brand as cunning fables
The records of the Lord;
That Moses is a fiction,
And prophets never spake;
And e’en the blessed gospels
As myths I should forsake.
There was a time I listened
To these old serpent’s lies,
My foolish heart sore tempted
The Bible to despise;
Its holiness rebuked me;
Its precepts crossed my will;
I wished to silence conscience,
And thus my lusts fulfill.
I cared not for the Saviour;
This present world I loved;
Its lusts and wealth and glory
Alone my passions moved;
I cared not for a heaven;
I hoped there were no hell;
I wished for no hereafter;
I loved my sins too well.
The serpent’s crafty teachings,
The heart’s deceptive lies,
The skeptic’s subtle reasonings,
All vanished from mine eyes:
Naked and lost and guilty
Beneath God’s searching eye —
Eternity before me —
Oh, whither could I fly?
I love the blessed Bible;
I know it all is true;
It is a faithful mirror
In which myself I view:
It shows me all my weakness,
My folly and my shame;
But makes thereby more precious
My Saviour’s grace and name.
His name, like sweetest music,
Falls ever on mine ear;
I go to it, expecting
My Saviour’s voice to hear:
A monument of mercy!
Oh, may my life proclaim
The truth of God’s salvation,
The glory of His name!