There’s a Picture Fair and Bright
VERSE 1
There’s
a picture fair and bright,
Hanging
still on memory’s wall:
There I
see my father take the Book divine;
Dear
home faces gathered round,
As the
shadows softly fall,
And a
light from out the pages seems to shine.
Reff
Dear old
Book, precious Book,
On thy
pages soiled and worn I love to look!
O thou
balm for hearts that ache,
For my
sainted mother’s sake,
Thou art
dearer day by day, thou blessed Book!
VERSE 2
While I
look, the pictures change,
And I
see my mother’s face;
In her
hand the Bible, worn and stained with tears;
But the
light is shining still,
And
within the hallowed place
There is
comfort for earth’s griefs and doubts and fears.
VERSE 3
O the
blessed days of old,
When I
felt my mother’s hand,
With its
tender touch of love upon my head,
While
the old, old, story sweet,
Which a
child can understand,
From the
pages of the Book divine she read.
VERSE 4
When I
long for voices hushed,
And the
touch of vanished hands,
In the
darkness when death’s angel spreads his wing,
Let me
turn to mother’s Book,
With its
comforts and commands,
For the
peace and hope its blessed pages bring!
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