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 Savior,
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.
Alas! in mad rebellion,
I hoped there were no God:
I cared not for His favor,
Though trembling at His rod;
I wished His word a fable
That warned of wrath to come;
"No God," my heart would mutter,
"No future weal, or doom!"
And ye I my mother taught me,
In tones so sweet and mild,
To know its holy pages
E'en when I was a child;
She read to me of Jesus,
Of all His grace and love;
And sought with tears my blessing-
His blessing from above.
Oh, why did I so madly
My mother's law forsake?
Oh, why did I so basely
God's righteous precepts break?
Oh, why did I so blindly
His warnings all despise,
And from the Friend of sinners
Avert my heart and eyes?
His mercy still pursued me
While wand'ring far away;
His hand with sickness smote me,
To wound, but not to slay:
His Spirit then convinced me,,
And brought my guilt to light;
I saw my lost condition,
How awful was the sight!
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?
Oh then what beauteous sunshine
Burst on my raptured sight!
It chased away the darkness,
And all was life, and light
I saw how grace and glory
In God's free gospel shone;
Before the cross, my terrors
And unbelief were gone.
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 Savior's grace and name.
Oh what a light in darkness I
Oh what a balm in woe
What streams of consolation
Through all its pages flow!
What mines of richest treasure,
What glories fresh I meet,
While, pondering the Scriptures,
I sit at Jesu's feet!
His name, like sweetest music,
Falls ever on mine ear;
I go to it, expecting
My Savior's voice to hear:
A monument of mercy
Oh, may my life proclaim
The truth of God's salvatiou,
The glory of His name!