66 lines
3.4 KiB
HTML
66 lines
3.4 KiB
HTML
<html><head>
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<script src="../../js/basepath.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
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<script src="./js/nav.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
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<title>BLB Hymns</title>
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<h2>PRECIOUS BIBLE! WHAT A TREASURE</h2>
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<p align="center"><h3>“The sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.” Ephesians 6:17</h3></p>
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<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
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<hr>
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<div align="center">
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<center>
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<table>
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<tr>
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<td><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_n_e_newton_j.jpg" alt="John Newton (1725-1807)" width="133.333333333333" height="196"></td>
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<td><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_n_e_newton_j.html" target="_blank">John Newton</a>, <em>Olney Hymns</em> (London: W. Oliver, 1779).
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<p><em>Music:</em> “All Saints Old,” <em>Darmstadt Gesangbuch</em>, 1698 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_a_allsaold.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<ul>
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<li>“Irby,” <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_g_a_gauntlett_hj.html" target="_blank">Henry John Gauntlett</a>, 1849 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_i_irby.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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</ul>
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</td>
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</tr>
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</table>
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</center>
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</div>
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<hr>
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<div class="lyrics">
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<p>Precious Bible! what a treasure<br>
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Does the Word of God afford?<br>
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All I want for life or pleasure,<br>
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Food and med’cine, shield and sword:<br>
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Let the world account me poor,<br>
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Having this I need no more.</p>
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<p>Food to which the world’s a stranger,<br>
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Here my hungry soul enjoys;<br>
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Of excess there is no danger,<br>
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Though it fills, it never cloys:<br>
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On a dying Christ I feed,<br>
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He is meat and drink indeed.</p>
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<p>When my faith is faint and sickly,<br>
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Or when Satan wounds my mind,<br>
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Cordials, to revive me quickly,<br>
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Healing med’cines here I find:<br>
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To the promises I flee,<br>
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Each affords a remedy.</p>
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<p>In the hour of dark temptation<br>
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Satan cannot make me yield;<br>
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For the Word of consolation<br>
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Is to me a mighty shield<br>
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While the scripture truths are sure,<br>
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From his malice I’m secure.</p>
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<p>Vain his threats to overcome me,<br>
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When I take the Spirits’ sword;<br>
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Then with ease I drive him from me.<br>
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Satan trembles at the word:<br>
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’Tis a sword for conquest made,<br>
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Keen the edge, and strong the blade.</p>
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<p>Shall I envy then the miser<br>
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Doting on his golden store?<br>
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Sure I am, or should be, wiser,<br>
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I am rich, ’tis he is poor:<br>
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Jesus gives me in his word,<br>
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Food and med’cine, shield and sword.</p>
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</div>
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<hr>
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