A glory gilds the sacred page,Majestic like the sun:
It gives a light to every age;
It gives, but borrows none.
The Hand that gave it still supplies
The gracious light and heat;
His truths upon the nations rise,
They rise, but never set.
Let everlasting thanks be Thine,
For such a bright display,
As makes a world of darkness shine
With beams of heavenly day.
My soul rejoices to pursue
The steps of Him I love,
Till glory break upon my view
In brighter worlds above. —William Cowper
Craig T. Owens 
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