I have a worn and faded book,
With finger prints on every page;
The Bible which my mother took
To guide her through her pilgrimage.
Its precious words she read to me,
And then while kneeling down would pray,
O Father, ever watchful be,
O’er this, my child, lest he should stray.
Though many years have come and gone,
Since mother dear has passed away,
I find its promises to her
Are just the same to even me.
To manhood now I’ve older grown,
My childhood days have passed away;
I see life now as mother did,
Who trusted Jesus every day.
Praise God, for Christian mothers here,
Tho’ aged and wrinkled be their face,
’Twas thro’ God’s love and mother’s prayers
That I’m a sinner saved by grace.
This book, it tells me I am weak,
It tells me I am prone to sin;
Then tells me of a Savior dear,
Who gave His life for sinful men.
It tells me of a Father’s love,
His wondrous grace so rich and free,
And why He gave His only Son
To die upon Mount Calvary.
It tells me of a city fair,
With jeweled walls and streets of gold;
Where living waters, crystal clear,
Flow thro’ the palace of the soul.
It says no sorrow there can come,
Nor tears will ever dim the eye,
That saints of every age and clime,
Shall meet together by and by.
I love my worn and faded book,
More precious ’tis to me than gold;
For now ’tis thro’ it I can look
And view the Savior of my soul.
It led me up to Calvary,
A sinner poor and weak and blind,
Then from the cross came light to me,
And love o’erflowed this soul of mine.