My Mother’s Bible (Williams)

There’s a dear and pre­cious Book

Though it’s worn and fad­ed now

Which re­calls those hap­py days of long ago

When I stood at mo­ther’s knee

With her hand up­on my brow

And I heard her voice in gen­tle tones and low.

Blessèd Book

pre­cious Book

On thy dear old tear stained leaves I love to look;

Thou art sweet­er day by day

as I walk the nar­row way

That leads at last to that bright home above.

As she read the sto­ries o’er

Of those migh­ty men of old

Of Jo­seph and of Da­ni­el and their tri­als

Of lit­tle David bold

Who be­came a king at last

Of Sa­tan and his ma­ny wick­ed wiles.

There she read of Je­sus’ love

As He blessed the child­ren dear

How He suf­fered

bled and died up­on the tree;

Of His hea­vy load of care

Then she dried my flow­ing tears

With her kiss­es as she said it was for me.

Well

those days are past and gone

But their me­mo­ry lin­gers still

And the dear old Book each day has been my guide;

And I seek to do His will

As my mo­ther taught me then

And ev­er in my heart His words abide.