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  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.
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