The following quaint verses are supposed to have been written by Roland Hill at a time when public credit in Great Britain was shaken by the failure of several banks.
I have a never-failing bank,
A more than golden store;
No earthly bank is half so rich;
How, then, can I be poor?
Tis when my stock is spent and gone
And I without a groat*,
Im glad to hasten to my bank
And beg a little note.
[*An English coin worth four pence.]
Sometimes my Banker, smiling, says,
Why dont you oftner come?
And when you draw a little note,
Why not a larger sum?
Why live so niggardly and poor?
Your bank contains a 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 Christ, His Son.
Since, then, my Banker is so rich,
I have no cause to borrow;
Ill live upon my cash today,
And draw again tomorrow.
Ive been a thousand times before,
And never was rejected;
Sometimes my Banker gives me more
Than asked for or expected.
Sometimes Ive felt a little proud
Ive managed things so clever;
But, ah! before the day is gone
Ive felt as poor as ever.
Should all the banks in Britain break,
And that of England smash,
Bring in your notes to Zions bank;
Youll surely have your cash.
And if you have but one small note,
Fear not to bring it in;
Come boldly to the bank of Grace;
The Banker is within.
All forged notes will be refused;
Man-merits are rejected;
There not a single note will pass
That God has not accepted.
This bank is full of precious notes,
All signed and sealed and free,
Though many a doubting soul may say,
There is not one for me.
The leper had a little note
Lord, if You will You can;
The Banker cashed this little note,
And healed the sickly man.
We read of one young man, indeed,
Whose riches did abound;
But in this Bankers book of grace
This man was never found.
But see the wretched, dying thief
Hang by the Bankers side;
He cried, Dear Lord, remember me;
He got his cash and died.