Thy Word, O Lord, Like Gentle Dews

Thy Word

O Lord

like gen­tle dews

Falls soft on hearts that pine;

Lord

to Thy gar­den ne’er re­fuse

This heav­en­ly balm of Thine.

Watered by Thee

let ev­ery tree

Then blos­som to Thy praise

By grace of Thine bear fruit di­vine

Through all the com­ing days.

Thy Word is like a flam­ing sword

A wedge that cleav­eth stone;

Keen as a fire so burns Thy Word

And pierc­eth flesh and bone;

O send it forth o’er all the earth

To cleanse our hearts with­in

To show Thy pow­er in Sa­tan’s hour

And break the night of sin.

Thy Word a won­drous guid­ing star

On pil­grim hearts doth rise

Leads those to God who dwell afar

And makes the sim­ple wise.

Let not its light e’er sink in night

But in each spir­it shine

That none may miss Heav­en’s fi­nal bliss

Led by Thy light di­vine.