My Grandfather’s Bible

The Sab­bath day—sweet day of rest—

Was draw­ing to a close;

The sum­mer breeze went mur­mur­ing by

To lull me to re­pose;

I took my fa­ther’s Bi­ble down—

His fa­ther’s gift to him—

A trea­sure rare

be­yond com­pare

Though soiled the page

and dim.

Old friend

I said

if thou couldst tell

What would thy me­mo­ries be?

And from the Book there seemed to come

This ev­en­ing rev­er­ie:

“Good will to men

Peace be to thee!

My mis­sion aye hath been

To tell the love of Him who died

To save a world from sin.

“A hund­red years ago I sailed

With those who sail no more

Through per­ils dread; by land and sea

I reached New Eng­land’s shore;

There

on a soul-worn

faith­ful band

This sooth­ing psalm did fall:

Lord

Thou hast been our dwell­ing place

In ge­ne­ra­tions all.

“Year af­ter year

in tem­ples rude

Upon the desk I lay

To teach of Him

the great High Priest;

The Life

the Truth

the Way.

And mul­ti­tudes who list­ened there

To God’s life-giv­ing word

Are rest­ing from their la­bors now

‘For ev­er with the Lord.’

“Anon a low­ly home I found

But love and peace were there…

The child­ren with the fa­ther read

And knelt with him in pray­er;

And through the val­ley

as one passed

I heard her sweet­ly sing:

‘O Grave

where is thy vic­to­ry?

O Death

where is thy sting?’

Hold fast the faith

the old Book said;

Thy fa­ther’s God adore…

And on the Rock of Ag­es rest

The soul for­ev­er more.

Amen

said I

by grace I will

Till at His feet we fall

And join the ev­er­last­ing song

And crown Him Lord of all.

We’ll join the ev­er­last­ing song

And crown Him Lord of all.