There’s a dear and pre­cious Book,
Though it’s worn and fad­ed now,
Which re­calls those hap­py days of long ago,
When I stood at mo­ther’s knee,
With her hand up­on my brow,
And I heard her voice in gen­tle tones and low.

Refrain

Blessèd Book, pre­cious Book,
On thy dear old tear stained leaves I love to look;
Thou art sweet­er day by day, as I walk the nar­row way
That leads at last to that bright home above.

As she read the sto­ries o’er
Of those migh­ty men of old,
Of Jo­seph and of Da­ni­el and their tri­als,
Of lit­tle David bold,
Who be­came a king at last,
Of Sa­tan and his ma­ny wick­ed wiles.

Refrain

There she read of Je­sus’ love,
As He blessed the child­ren dear,
How He suf­fered, bled and died up­on the tree;
Of His hea­vy load of care,
Then she dried my flow­ing tears
With her kiss­es as she said it was for me.

Refrain

Well, those days are past and gone,
But their me­mo­ry lin­gers still
And the dear old Book each day has been my guide;
And I seek to do His will,
As my mo­ther taught me then,
And ev­er in my heart His words abide.

Refrain