Our Need For Reformation Today
This little book I’d rather own
Than all the gold and gems,
That e’er in monarchs’ coffers shone—
Than all their diadems.
Nay; were the seas one chrysolite,
The earth one golden ball,
And diamonds all the stars of night,
This book were worth them all.
How baleful to Ambition’s eye
His blood-wrung spoils must gleam,
When Death’s uplifted hand is high,
His life a vanished dream!
Then hear him with his gasping breath
For one poor moment crave!
Fool! Wouldst thou stay the arm of Death,
Ask of thy gold to save!
No, no; the soul ne’er found relief
In glittering hoards of wealth,
Gems dazzle not the eye of grief,
Gold cannot purchase health;
But here a blessed balm appears
To heal the deepest woe;
And he that seeks this book in tears,
His tears shall cease to flow.
Here He who died on Calvary’s tree
Hath made that promise blest:
“Ye heavy-laden, come to me,
And I will give you rest;
A bruised reed I will not break,
Nor contrite heart despise;
My burden’s light, and all who take
My yoke, shall win the skies!”
Yes, yes; this little book is worth
All else to mortals given;
For what are all the joys of earth
Compared to joys of Heaven?
This is the guide our Father gave
To lead to realms of day—
A star whose luster gilds the grave,
The Light, the Life, the Way.