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! O! 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 reached the heavenly shore
The Lord Himself will stand revealed.
When ‘midst the throng celestial placed,
The bright Original I see,
From which the sacred page was traced
More fully I shall learn of Thee.
But while I’m here, thou shalt supply
His place and tell me of His love;
I’ll read with faith’s discerning eye,
And get a taste of joys above.