This book is all that’s left me now!
Tears will un­bid­den start—
With fal­ter­ing lip and throb­bing brow
I press it to my heart.
For many ge­ne­ra­tions past,
Here is our fa­mi­ly tree!
My mo­ther’s hands this Bi­ble clasped,
She, dying, gave it me.

Ah, well do I re­mem­ber those
Whose names these re­cords bear;
Who round the hearth-stone used to close
After the ev­en­ing prayer,
And speak of what these pag­es said,
In tones my heart would thrill!
Though they are with the si­lent dead,
Here are they liv­ing still!

My father read this ho­ly book
To bro­thers, sis­ters dear;
How calm was my poor mo­ther’s look,
Who leaned God’s Word to hear!
Her an­gel face—I see it yet!
What throng­ing me­mo­ries come—
Again that lit­tle group is met
Within the halls of home!

Thou tru­est friend man ev­er knew,
Thy con­stan­cy I’ve tried;
When all were false I found thee true,
My coun­sel­or and guide.
The mines of earth no trea­sures give,
That could this vol­ume buy;
In teach­ing me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.