23 Poems About the Bible and the Power of God’s Word

Precious Bible! what a treasure
Does the word of God afford!
All I want for life or pleasure,
Food and med’cine, shield and sword:
Let the world account me poor,
Having this I need no more.

Food to which the world’s a stranger,
Here my hungry soul enjoys;
Of excess there is no danger—
Though it fills, it never cloys:
On a dying Christ I feed,
He is meat and drink indeed!

When my faith is faint and sickly,
Or when Satan wounds my mind;
Cordials to revive me quickly,
Healing med’cines here I find:
To the promises I flee,
Each affords a remedy.

In the hour of dark temptation,
Satan can not make me yield;
For the word of consolation
Is to me a mighty shield:
While the scripture truths are sure,
From his malice I’m secure.

Vain his threats to overcome me,
When I take the Spirit’s sword;
Then, with ease, I drive him from me;
Satan trembles at the word:
’Tis a sword for conquest made,
Keen the edge, and strong the blade.

Shall I envy, then, the miser,
Doating on his golden store?
Sure I am, or should be, wiser;
I am rich—’tis he is poor:
Jesus gives me in his word,
Food and med’cine, shield and sword.

How painfully pleasing the fond recollection
Of youthful connections and innocent joy,
When blessed with parental advice and affection,
Surrounded with mercies—with peace from on high!
I still view the chairs of my father and mother,
The seats of their offspring as ranged on each hand;
And that richest of books which excelled every other,
The family Bible that lay on the stand:
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blesséd Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.

That Bible, the volume of God’s inspiration,
At morn and at evening could yield us delight;
And the prayer of our sire was a sweet invocation
For mercy by day and for safety through night;
Our hymn of thanksgiving with harmony swelling,
All warm from the heart of the family band,
Has raised us from earth to that rapturous dwelling
Described in the Bible that lay on the stand:
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blesséd Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.

Ye scenes of tranquillity, long have we parted,
My hopes almost gone, and my parents no more:
In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted,
And wander unknown on a far distant shore;
Yet how can I doubt a dear Saviour’s protection,
Forgetful of gifts from his bountiful hand!
O let me with patience receive his correction,
And think of the Bible that lay on the stand:
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blesséd Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.