Bring me His Word,
the vision glorious,
of God, the great King,
who reigns all victorious.
Bring me His Word,
though it cuts through all hearts.
Defeats thus the legions of Satan,
With faith-driven darts.
Bring me His Word,
not a jot would I change.
Though some would attempt,
their motives so strange?
Bring me His Word.
‘Tis truth herein spoken:
not fallacy, myth,
or idolatrous token.
Bring me His Word.
As in Creation,
before we sore fell.
And losing our blessing,
were cast from the Garden
to contemplate Hell.
Bring me His Word.
Feed me this manna.
It gives me new heart
to continue the fight,
midst battle travail,
by day and long night.
Bring me His Word.
It strengthens, sustains.
A balm for my soul
that heals and maintains.
Bring me His Word,
in my cot as I lay;
contemplating my errors,
committed this day.
Bring me His Word.
Wouldst I thus be renewed!
From the World’s deathly grasp;
as I claim then my grace-gift,
with my last mortal gasp.
Bring me His Word.
And raised then to Glory,
I stand with bowed head,
giving thanks for this tome.
Great codex sublime,
of God’s Earthly story.
Denis Bowden