All Sufficient
When I am tired, the Bible is my bed;
Or in the dark, the Bible is my light;
When I am hungry, it is vital bread;
Or fearful, it is armor for the fight.
When I am sick, ’tis healing medicine;
Or lonely, thronging friends I find therein.
If I would work, the Bible is my tool;
Or play, it is a harp of happy sound.
If I am arrogant, it is my school.
If I am sinking, it is solid ground.
If I am cold, the Bible is my fire;
And it is wings, if boldly I aspire.
Should I be lost, the Bible is my guide;
Or naked, it is raiment rich and warm.
Am I imprisoned, it is ranges wide;
Or tempest-tossed, a shelter from the storm.
Would I adventure, ’tis a gallant sea;
Or would I rest, it is a flowery lea.
Does gloom oppress? The Bible is a sun,
Or ugliness? It is a garden fair.
Am I athirst? How cool its currents run!
Or stifled? What a vivifying air!
Since thus thou givest of thyself to me,
How should I give myself great Book to thee!