Though the cover is worn,
And the pages are torn,
And though places bear traces of tears:
Yet more precious than gold
Is this Book, worn and old,
That can shatter and scatter my fears.
This old Book is my guide,
’Tis a friend by my side,
It will lighten and brighten my way;
And each promise I find
Soothes and gladdens the mind,
As I read it and heed it each day.
When I prayerfully look
In the precious old book.
Many treasures and pleasures I see:
Many promises of love,
From the Father above,
Who is nearest and dearest to me.
To this Book I will cling,
Of its worth I will sing,
Though great losses and crosses be mine;
For I cannot despair,
Though surrounded by care,
While possessing this blessing divine.