How painfully pleasing the fond recollection
Of youthful connections and innocent joy!
When blest with parental advice and affection;
Surrounded with mercies, with peace from on high.
I still view the chairs of my sire and my mother,
The seats of their offspring as ranged on each hand;
And that richest of books, which excelled every other,
The family Bible, which lay on the stand.
The old fashioned Bible, the dear, blessèd Bible,
The family Bible which lay on the stand.
That Bible, the volume of God’s inspiration,
At noon and at evening could give us delight;
And the prayer of our sire was a sweet invocation,
For mercy by day and for safety thro’ night;
Our hymns of thanksgiving with harmony swelling
All warm from the hearts of that family band,
Half raised us from earth to that rapturous dwelling
Described in the Bible that lay on the stand.
Ye scenes of tranquility! long have we parted;
My hope’s almost gone, and my parents no more;
In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted,
And wander unknown on a far distant shore;
Yet, how can I doubt my dear Savior’s protection,
Forgetful of gifts from His bountiful hand!
Oh! let me with patience endure His correction,
And think of the Bible that lay on the stand.