Isaac Watts

Ascension Feast of Justin, Martyr at Rome, c.165 Commemoration of Angela de'Merici, Founder of the Institute of St. Ursula, 1540 read more

Ascension Feast of Justin, Martyr at Rome, c.165 Commemoration of Angela de'Merici, Founder of the Institute of St. Ursula, 1540 Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Does its successive journeys run, His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. For him shall endless prayer be made, And princes throng to crown his head; His name, like sweet perfume, shall rise With every morning sacrifice. People and realms of every tongue Dwell on his love with sweetest song, And infant-voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on his name. Blessings abound where'er he reigns; The prisoners leap to lose their chains; The weary find eternal rest, And all the sons of want are blest. Let every creature rise and bring Honors peculiar to our King; Angels descend with songs again, And earth repeat the loud amen.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give read more

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
- Isaac Watts,

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.

The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, read more

The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, Or venture near his throne? The great invisible! He dwells Conceal'd in dazzling light: But his all-searching eye reveals The secrets of the night. Those watchful eyes that never sleep, Survey the world around; His wisdom is the boundless deep, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. He knows no shadow of a change, Nor alters his decrees; Firm as a rock his truth remains, To guard his promises. Justice, upon a dreadful throne, Maintains the rights of God; While mercy sends her pardons down, Bought with a Saviour's blood. Now to my soul immortal King, Speak some forgiving word; Then `twill be double joy to sing The glories of my Lord.

How glad the heathens would have been,
That worship idols, wood and stone,
If they the book read more

How glad the heathens would have been,
That worship idols, wood and stone,
If they the book God had seen.