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Page 39
Publishing Committee · Rochester, N. Y. · Sep 4, 1855
From
Review and Herald, Vol. 7, No. 5.
newspaper
Read the full edition
My Bible.
Holy Bible! precious volume! Thou art ever dear to me; Sweets I glean from every column, What can be compared to thee?
In the hour of keenest sorrow, Oft thou'st whispered peace to me; Joy I from thy pages borrow, When no human help I see
Thou in health hast been my portion, In distress sustained me; In my moments of devotion, How I love to dwell on thee!
When the flowers of earth are fading, While her pleasures from me flee, Or, by friends I am forsaken, Consolation flows from thee.
For thou tell'st of ceaseless pleasures, Fadeless flowers in store for me; Endless joys—enduring treasures, If I'll be advised by thee.
Richest of all earthly treasures, Book of truth—thou art to me; Thou afford'st the sweetest pleasures, Nought can be compared with thee!
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