PREACH ME THE DEAR OLD GOSPEL.
By Florence L. Burpee
[Florence L. Burpee, in World's Crisis.] Preach me the dear old Gospel,
When you fear I am wandering away,
For the world is full of allurements,
And even the strongest may stray.
I am weak and sinful ever,
But the tempter I do not fear,
When you tell of One who was tempted,
Of the Friend who is ever near. Preach me the whole of the Gospel;
When God bids you “spare not,” cry out;
Many wolves have entered the sheep-fold
In this age of freedom and doubt.
The church oft walks with the worldly,
Forsaking the narrow way,
Then preach us the whole of the Gospel,
And charge all to watch and pray. Preach me the dear old Gospel,
In words that are simple and plain;
I care not for the creed of the preacher,
His age, his dress, or his name,
If he follows and preaches the Master;
For the hour is getting late,
And many a creed has entered
Through the same little wicket-gate. I have listened to eloquent sermons
By men who were learned and tried,
Who understand Greek and Hebrew,
And have traveled far and wide;
But the Saviour they did not mention,
And I longed to tell them then,
That only the same old Gospel
Would now reach the hearts of men. Preach me the dear old Gospel,
For the time will not be long
Between sowing the seed with weeping
And the glad, sweet harvest song.
Yes, preach me the dear old Gospel,
That same sweet story of old;
Of Jesus who loves and guides me
To that city with gates of gold.