338 | CM | ||
HOW precious is the book divine, By inspiration given; Bright as a lamp its doctrines shine, To guide our souls to Heaven. |
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2 | Lord, I have made Thy Word my choice, My lasting heritage; Here shall my noblest powers rejoice, My warmest thoughts engage. |
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3 | I’ll read the histories of Thy love, And keep Thy laws in sight; While through Thy promises I’ll rove With ever fresh delight. |
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4 | Here is a land of wealth unknown, Where springs of life arise; Seeds of immortal bliss are sown, And hidden glory lies. |
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5 | The sole relief that mourners have, This makes our sorrows blest; Our glorious hope beyond the grave, And our eternal rest. |
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John Fawcett, 1739-1817, Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 |