The Book My Mother Read

Like a com­pass on the sea

Like a star on az­ure deep

Is the Bi­ble unto me

For my course it safe­ly keeps;

Tells me how I strayed and fell

How in sin I lay as dead

But I live its pow­er to tell

Blessèd book my mo­ther read.

Precious book! O won­drous book!

Who can tell its pow­er di­vine?

Bearing news of grace so free

Book of books

I claim it mine.

Like a lamp in dark­est night

Shining on my path­way lone

Now and then up­on my sight

Shows a vi­sion of my home;

So this book my spir­it cheers

When all oth­er hopes are fled

Balm and com­fort for my fears

Is the book my mo­ther read.

Like a guest from realms ab­ove

Soothing all one’s pain and pang

How it thrills with Je­sus’ love

Like some song the an­gels sang;

Tells me how my Sav­ior came

How for me His blood was shed;

I will read it o’er again—

Blessèd book my mo­ther read.