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1 I love the volume of thy word;
What light and joy these leaves afford,
To souls benighted and distrest,
Thy precepts guide my doubtful way;
Thy fear forbids my feet to stray,
Thy promise leads my heart to rest.
2 From the discov'ries of thy law,
The perfect rules of life I draw;
These are my study and delight:
Not honey so invites the taste,
Nor gold that hath the furnace past
Appears so pleasing to the sight.
3 Thy threat'nings wake my slumb'ring eyes,
And warn me where my danger lies;
But 'tis thy blessed gospel, Lord,
That makes my guilty conscience clean,
Converts my soul, subdues my sin,
And gives a free, but large reward.
4 who knows the errors of his thoughts?
My God! forgive my secret faults,
And from presumptuous sins restrain.
Accept my poor attempts of praise,
That I have read thy book of grace
And book of nature not in vain.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | I love the volume of thy word |
| Meter: | P. M. |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1814 |
| Topic: | The Scriptures |
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