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 a 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.

Lachlan Mackenzie (I think)