THIS holy book I'd rather own, Than all the gold and gems That e'er in monarchs' coffers shone, Than all their diadems. Nay, were the seas one chrysolite, The earth one golden ball, And diadems all the stars of night, This book outweighs them all. Ah, no, the soul ne'er found relief In glittering hoards of wealth; Gems dazzle not the eye of grief, Gold cannot purchase health. But here a blessed balm appears To heal the deepest woe, And those who read this book in tears, Their tears shall cease to flow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOW AND AFTERWARDS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK THE MEMORY OF MARTHA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 21. BREDON HILL by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL THE YEAR OF JUBILEE by HENRY CLAY WORK SABBATH HYMN by SOLOMON BEN MOSES HA-LEVI ALKABEZ THE WOOD-CUTTERS WIFE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ON THE DEATH OF REV. LEVI PARSONS by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |