Precious Bible! what a treasureDoes the word of God afford!-
All I want for life or pleasure,
Food and medicine, 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 medicines, here I find;
To the promises I flee;
Each affords a remedy.
Newton
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