O Book of God

O Book of God, designed for man,
Thou wast not made on human plan,
Though holy men thy pages traced,
The Holy Ghost the thought emplaced.
Through every age thy foes were great,
Thou caredst not for human hate;
Thou camest forth from fire again,
To kindle fires for books of men.

Thou makest known to us our God,
His easy yoke, His chastening rod,
His love immense, His awful wrath,
And attributes none other hath.
Through thee alone we rightly view
Man's littleness and largeness, too;
Discover pearls of priceless worth,
Discern the tinselled toys of earth.

May he who did the word indite
Effulge its page with sacred light,
And thus to me may that be blest
Which men unlearned, unstable, wrest.
O Lord, engrave so on my heart
This book, that when its counterpart,
The book of life, Thou shalt unseal,
Its list of names may mine reveal.

—by Albert A. Bennett (1849–1909)

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