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