Dear Lord, Thy Word of Truth Affords

Dear Lord

Thy word of truth af­fords

A balm for ev­ery wound;

Hence all our hopes of bliss arise

And here our peace is found.

The tree of life

be­neath whose shade

The wea­ry pil­grim sits;

And there re­gal­ing on its fruits

With sweet re­fresh­ment meets.

The sure foun­da­tion of our faith

And source of all our joy

May it our warm­est thoughts en­gage

Our in­most souls em­ploy.

But not on us alone be­stow

These re­cords of Thy love

Let dis­tant lands Thy truth re­ceive

And all its bless­ings prove.