1 Precious Bible! what a treasure
Does the word of God afford!
All I want for life or pleasure,
Food or med'cine, shield and sword;
Let the world account me poor--
Having this I need no more.

2 Food, to which the world's a stranger,
Here my hungry soul enjoys;
Of excess there is no danger,
Though it fills, it never cloys;
On a dying Christ I feed--
He is meat and drink indeed!