The word more precious than gold by John Newton

Precious Bible! what a treasure

Does the Word of God afford?

All I want for life or pleasure,

Food and med’cine, shield and sword:

Let the world account me poor,

Having this I need no more.

Food to which the world’s a stranger,

Here my hungry soul enjoys;

Of excess there is no danger,

Though it fills, it never cloys:

On a dying Christ I feed,

He is meat and drink indeed.

When my faith is faint and sickly,

Or when Satan wounds my mind,

Cordials, to revive me quickly,

Healing med’cines here I find:

To the promises I flee,

Each affords a remedy.

In the hour of dark temptation

Satan cannot make me yield;

For the Word of consolation

Is to me a mighty shield

While the scripture truths are sure,

From his malice I’m secure.

Vain his threats to overcome me,

When I take the Spirits’ sword;

Then with ease I drive him from me.

Satan trembles at the word:

’Tis a sword for conquest made,

Keen the edge, and strong the blade.

Shall I envy then the miser

Doting on his golden store?

Sure I am, or should be, wiser,

I am rich, ’tis he is poor:

Jesus gives me in his word,

Food and med’cine, shield and sword.