September 16, 2012
Truthfully, I don’t recall whose bookshelf first sparked the thoughts of this song. Though I’ve tried to remember, I think it’s fair to say that its conviction could fall on most hearts that now read this – including my own. The Word of God – the Bible – is the greatest treasure God has left us. Besides the still, small voice that we sometimes feel within us our hearts are tuned to His Spirit, the Bible is the one means through which we can know His wisdom, His will, and His heart’s true intentions toward our own.
We have forgotten the inestimable worth of the Word. The words preserved through centuries’ blood of the saints lie mostly unread, disrespected, undefended, and largely ignored. It must no longer be this way. We must, once again or perhaps for the very first time, take the Word of God, open It, read It, inscribe It in our very hearts, and – most importantly – trust Its truth enough to actually live by Its principles.
We owe this much to the God Who breathed His very life into the Word…
We owe this much to the martyrs whose blood has hallowed Its pages…
We owe this much to our own hungry souls…
…”It is written, “‘Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'” – Matthew 4:4
“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears My word and believes Him Who sent Me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” – John 5:24
Dust upon the Cover
I walked into the pretty room with flowers on the desk.
Along one wall were shelves for all the things they valued best.
With one short look, I saw the Book down low near to the floor.
How God must weep each time He sees His Gift not treasured more.
Years of martyrs for it slain,
Words inscribed in tears and pain,
Word of God, my spirit’s life…
I ne’er shall see a sadder sight
Than dust upon the cover.
In Orient’s lives, ten thousands die to read a single page.
Forgotten here, the Word’s not dear in the fury of this age.
Its sacred truth and promise to still guide and guard our steps
Are left ignored, neglected more, thus hidden in its depths.
Years of martyrs for it slain,
Words inscribed in tears and pain,
Word of God, my spirit’s life…
I ne’er shall see a sadder sight
Than dust upon the cover.
I beg of you, don’t let It go.
If we don’t have Its strength, what life is known?
God has breathed on every page His faithfulness from age to age.
Years of martyrs for it slain,
Words inscribed in tears and pain,
Word of God, my spirit’s life…
I ne’er shall see a sadder sight
Than dust upon the cover.
Written: August 25th, 2005
©2005 Amy Elizabeth Salter (Rutherford)
