How rich the treasures I received
On father’s knees and mother’s arms,
Where worldly cares are not perceived
And ears are deaf to vain alarms.
Oh sweet, sweet bliss of childhood days,
When Christ was preached by word and deed,
When Scripture guided all our ways
And God supplied our every need!
True riches these, that brighter grow
And far outshine world’s choicest gold!
Please help me, Lord, to always show
That fear of God grows never old!
26/07/07
© W. J. Watterson
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