So we're all right, an' I, for one,
Don't think our cause'll lose in vally
By rammin' read more

So we're all right, an' I, for one,
Don't think our cause'll lose in vally
By rammin' Scriptur' in our gun,
An' gittin' Natur' for an ally.

The word unto the prophet spoken
Was writ on tablets yet unbroken:
The word by seers or read more

The word unto the prophet spoken
Was writ on tablets yet unbroken:
The word by seers or sibyls told,
In groves of oak or fanes of gold,
Still floats upon the morning wind,
Still whispers to the willing mind.

Now these be the last words of David. David the son of Jesse
said, and the man who was read more

Now these be the last words of David. David the son of Jesse
said, and the man who was raised up on high, the anointed of the
God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel, said,
The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word was in my
tongue.

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.

A glory gilds the sacred page,
Majestic like the sun,
It gives a light to every age,
read more

A glory gilds the sacred page,
Majestic like the sun,
It gives a light to every age,
It gives, but borrows none.

The history of every individual man should be a Bible.

The history of every individual man should be a Bible.

Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
read more

Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way:
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.

One day at least in every week,
The sects of every kind
Their doctrines here are sure read more

One day at least in every week,
The sects of every kind
Their doctrines here are sure to seek,
And just as sure to find.

We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old read more

We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old flower fields of the soul;
And, weary seeker of the best,
We come back laden from out quest,
To find that all the sages said
Is in the Book our mothers read.