Gathered Gold

Index Page

 

The Christian's Firm Bank

I have a never-failing bank,

A more than golden store;

No earthly bank is half so rich--

How can I then be poor?

'Tis when my stock is spent and gone,

And I without a groat,

I'm glad to hasten to my bank,

And beg a little note.

 

Sometimes my banker, smiling, says,

"Why don't you oftener come?

And when you draw a little note,

Why not a larger sum;

Why live so niggardly and poor--

Your bank containeth plenty?

Why come and take a one-pound note,

When you might have twenty?

 

'Yea, twenty thousand, ten times told,

Is but a trifling sum

To what your Father has laid up,

Secure in God, His Son."

Since, then, my banker is so rich,

I have no cause to borrow;

I'll live upon my cash to-day,

And draw again to-morrow.

 

I've been a thousand times before,

And never was rejected;

Sometimes my banker gives me more

Than asked for or expected!

Sometimes I've felt a little proud

I've managed things so clever;

But, ah! before the day was gone,

I've felt as poor as ever.

 

Sometimes, with blushes in my face,

just at the door I stand;

I know if Moses kept me back,

I surely must be damned.

I know my bank will never break--

No! it can never fail:

The firm--three persons in one God--

Jehovah--Lord of all!

 

Should all the banks in Britain break,

The Bank of England smash--

Bring in your notes to Sion's bank,

You'll surely have your cash;

And if you have but one small note,

Fear not to bring it in;

Come boldly to this throne of grace--

The banker is within.

 

All forged notes will be refused,

Man-merits are rejected;

There's not a single note will pass

That God has not accepted.

'Tis only those beloved of God,

Redeemed by precious blood,

That ever had a note to bring--

These are the gift of God.

 

Though a thousand ransomed souls may say

They have no notes at all,

Because they feel the plague of sin,

So ruined by the fall:

This bank is full of precious notes,

All signed, and sealed, and free;

Though many doubting souls may say

There is not one for me.

 

Base unbelief will lead the child

To say what is not true;

I tell the soul that feels self-lost,

These notes belong to you.

The leper had a little note--

"Lord, if thou wilt, thou can!"

The banker cashed his little note,

And healed the sickly man.

 

We read of one young man, indeed,

Whose riches did abound;

But in the banker's book of grace

This man was never found.

But see the wretched dying thief

Hang by the banker's side;

He cried, "Dear Lord, remember me!"

He got his cash--and died.

 

Rev. Lachlan MacKenzie, Lochcarron, Scotland