The Excellence of Scripture

Laden with guilt, and full of fears,

I fly to Thee, my Lord,

And not a ray of hope appears

But in Thy written word.

The volume of my Father's grace

Does all my fried assuage;

Here I behold my Saviour's face

In almost every page.

This is the field where hidden lies

The pearly of price unknown;

That merchant is divinely wise

Who makes the pearl His own.

This is the judge that ends the strife,

Where wit and reason fail;

My guide to everlasting life,

through all this gloomy vale.

Oh may Thy counsels, mighty God!

My roving feet command;

And teach me to pursue the road

That leads to Thy right hand.