The poem is a single, soaring hymn of praise to the Holy Bible as the living, life-giving Word of God.
It begins with the human soul lying dead in the dust of sin and despair, then shows how the gentle rain of Scripture falls upon that dust and causes new life to spring forth, green, fragrant, and rejoicing.
From there it traces the entire pilgrimage of the believer:
- The Bible becomes a chain of steady lamps along the dangerous, narrow path, turning midnight into morning.
- Its promises taste sweeter than wild honey dripping from the rock.
- When enemies weave nets of lies, Scripture flashes like a sword of fire and sets the captive free.
- Before dawn, hungry souls rise to meet the Word and find fresh manna, warm and fragrant, every single morning.
- The heart learns to love God’s commandments more than the richest king loves his glittering treasure, and living rivers burst forth within.
- Finally, Scripture binds, seals, and nails the soul fast to God, transforming trembling sinners into joyful, unshakable trees planted by rivers of water, whose leaves never wither and whose fruit never fails.
The whole movement is one of resurrection, guidance, delight, deliverance, sustenance, and everlasting fruitfulness, all flowing from the open pages of the Holy Bible. It is a universal prayer that every heart on earth would come to love, trust, and live in this Word that is forever settled in heaven, more precious than thousands of pieces of gold and silver, and able to make the simple wise unto everlasting life.
In short: the poem celebrates the Holy Bible as the inexhaustible treasure that revives the dead, guides the lost, feeds the hungry, frees the captive, and keeps the redeemed forever alive in the presence of God.
Let every heart that once lay prone in dust
be raised beneath the gentle rain of Scripture;
the Holy Bible falls like mercy’s mist,
and withered ribs put on the green of life,
breathing the fragrance of a risen race.
Let every pilgrim faltering on the steep,
where pride’s loose stones betray the trembling foot,
behold the lamps of God’s own Word hung deep
along the narrow way; the sacred page
turns midnight into morning, and each step
rings clear upon the height with heaven’s light.
Let every tongue that hungers taste and say
how verses of the Holy Bible melt
more sweet than honey dripping from the rock;
one line, and barren souls become a sea
of golden wheat beneath a harvest moon,
where quiet winds of peace forever move.
When lying cords are woven through the gloom
to snare the innocent, let Scripture rise
like sudden sunrise on a blade of steel;
the nets fall black and burned, the captives rise
laughing beneath a sky the Word has flung
wide open with its everlasting light.
Before the lark awakes, before the dew
has vanished from the grass, let watchers keep
their silent vigil with the open Book,
and find warm manna broken in their hands,
fresh from the Holy Bible every dawn,
still fragrant with the breath of God Himself.
Let every heart love Scripture more than kings
love coffers heaped with gold and glittering stone;
let living waters from its pages leap
on crystal wings and sweep old sins away.
Bind every soul with cords no storm can sever,
seal every spirit on the arm of Love,
drive every thought like nails the Word drives home;
so shall the trembling stand in perfect peace,
and joy shall clothe them like a wedding dress.
For lo, the Holy Bible stands enthroned
in heaven’s height, a star no darkness dims;
and all who graft their lives upon its truth
become fair trees beside the river of God,
whose leaves shall never fade, whose fruit is sure
through summer’s blaze and winter’s longest night.
Amen.
