Isaac Watts - Hymns and Spiritual Songs

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I would not change my blest estate for all the world calls good or great.

Isaac Watts
Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone.
Strange! that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.

Isaac Watts
Not all the blood of beasts On Jewish altars slain, Could give the guilty conscience peace, Or wash away the stain: But Christ, the heav'nly Lamb, Takes all our sins away, A sacrifice of nobler nam' And richer blood than they.

Isaac Watts
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.

Isaac Watts
When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.

Isaac Watts
The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours.

Isaac Watts
Death like a narrow sea divides
This heavenly land from ours.

Isaac Watts
We are a garden walled around,
Chosen and made peculiar ground;
A little spot enclosed by grace,
Out of the world's wide wilderness.

Isaac Watts
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Isaac Watts
Come, let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne;
Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,
But all their joys are one.
'Worthy the Lamb that died,' they cry,
'To be exalted thus.'

Isaac Watts
Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.

Isaac Watts
No, I'll repine at death no more, But with a cheerful gasp resign To the cold dungeon of the ground These dying, withering limbs of mine. Let worms devour my wasting flesh, And crumble all my bones to dust:-- My God shall raise my frame anew, At the revival of the just.

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

Isaac Watts