I found that I loved Christ dearly. Oh, but my soul cleaved to him, my affections cleaved to him. I felt my love to him as hot as fire. But I quickly found that my great love was but little, and that I who had, as I thought, such burning love for Jesus Christ could let him go again for a trifle.
Thy Word is like a garden, Lord,
With flowers bright and fair;
And every one who seeks may pluck
A lovely cluster there.
Thy Word is like a deep, deep mine;
And jewels rich and rare
Are hidden in its mighty depths
For every searcher there.
Thy Word is like a starry host:
A thousand rays of light
Are seen to guide the traveler,
And make his pathway bright.
Thy Word is like an armory,
Where soldiers may repair,
And find, for life’s long battle-day,
All needful weapons there.
Oh, may I love Thy precious Word,
May I explore the mine,
May I its fragrant flowers glean,
May light upon me shine.
Oh, may I find my armor there,
Thy Word my trusty sword;
I’ll learn to fight with every foe
The battle of the Lord.