I LOVE the sacred Book of God,
No other can its place supply:
It points me to the saints’ abode,
It gives me wings and bids me fly.
Sweet Book! in which my eyes discern
The image of my absent Lord;
From thine instructive page I learn
The joys His presence will afford.
In thee I read my title clear
To mansions that will ne’er decay;
My Lord! oh! when will He appear.
And bear His prisoner far away?
Then shall I need thy light no more.
To show me whom I have believed;
“When I have reach’d the heavenly shore
The Lord Himself will stand reveal’d.
When, midst the throng celestial placed,
The bright ORIGINAL 1 see,
From which the sacred page was traced
Sweet book! —I’ve no more need of thee.
But while I’m here, thou shall supply
His place and tell me of His love;
I’ll read with faith’s discerning eye,
And get a taste of joys above.
T, S. Β, R.