The Word More Precious Than Gold

Precious Bible! what a treasure Does the Word of God afford! All I want for life or pleasure, Food and med’cine, shield and sword; Let the world account me poor, Having this I need no more.

Food, to which the world’s a stranger, Here my hungry soul enjoys; Of excess there is no danger, Though it fills, it never cloys: On a dying Christ I feed— He is meat and drink indeed!

When my faith is faint and sickly, Or when Satan wounds my mind, Cordials to revive me quickly, Healing med’cines, here I find: To the promises I flee, Each affords a remedy.

In the hour of dark temptation, Satan cannot make me yield; For the word of consolation Is to me a mighty shield: While the Scripture truths are sure, From his malice I’m secure.

Vain his threats to overcome me When I take the Spirit’s sword; Then with ease I drive him from me— Satan trembles at the word: ’Tis a sword for conquest made, Keen the edge and strong the blade.

Shall I envy then the miser, Doting on his golden store? Sure I am, or should be, wiser: I am rich, ’tis he is poor: Jesus gives me, in his word, Food and med’cine, shield and sword.