precious bible

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 cannot 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 spirits’ 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
doting 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.