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TIS one thing now to read the Bible through,

 Another thing to read, to learn and do;

‘Tis one thing now to read it with delight,

 And quite another thing to read it right.

 

Some read it with design to learn to read,

But to the subject pay but little heed;

Some read it as their duty once a week,

But no instruction from the Bible seek;

 

Whilst others read it without common care,

With no regard to lion’ they read or where.

Some read it as a history, to know

How people lived three thousand years ago.

 

Some read to bring unto themselves repute,

By showing others how they can dispute;

Whilst others read because their neighbors do,

To see how long ‘twill take to read it through.

 

Some read it for the wonders that are there,

How David killed a lion and a bear;

Whilst others read—or rather in it look—

 Because, perhaps, they have no other book.

 

Some read the blessed Book—they don’t know why,

It somehow happens in the way to lie;

Whilst others read it with uncommon care,

But all to find some contradictions there.

 

One reads with father’s specs upon his head,

And sees the thing just as his father did;

 Another reads through Campbell or through Scott,

And thinks it means exactly what they thought.

 

Some read to prove a pre-adopted creed,

Thus understand but little what they read;

And every passage in the Book they bend

To make it suit that all-important end.

 

Some read the Book to find that God is love,

Whilst others read—the opposite to prove.

Some people read, as I have often thought.

To teach the Book, instead of being taught

 

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