Hymn 119

The Holy Scriptures.

Laden with guilt, and full of fears,
I fly to thee, my Lord,
And not a glimpse of hope appears
But in thy written word.

The volume of my Father's grace
Does all my griefs assuage;
Here I behold my Savior's face
Almost in every page.

[This is the field where hidden lies
The pearl of price unknown;
That merchant is divinely wise
Who makes the pearl his own.]

[Here consecrated water flows
To quench my thirst of sin;
Here the fair tree of knowledge grows,
Nor danger dwells therein.]

This is the Judge that ends the strife
Where wit and reason fail,
My guide to everlasting life
Through all this gloomy vale.

O may thy counsels, mighty God,
My roving feet command;
Nor I forsake the happy road
That leads to thy right hand.