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Hymns and Spiritual Songs

Isaac Watts

Section 17 of 42 - Table of Contents
Hymns.

Book 2.

Composed on Divine Subjects.


Hymn 2:1.
A song of praise to God from Great Britain.

1 Nature with all her powers shall sing
God the Creator and the King;
Nor air, nor earth, nor skies, nor seas
Deny the tribute of their praise.

2 [Begin to make his glories known,
Ye seraphs that sit near his throne;
Tune your harps high, and spread the sound
To the creation's utmost bound.

3 All mortal things of meaner frame,
Exert your force and own his Name;
Whilst with our souls and with our voice
We sing his honours and our joys.]

4 [To him be sacred all we have
From the young cradle to the grave:
Our lips shall his loud wonders tell,
And every word a miracle.]

5 [This northern isle, our native land,
Lies safe in God th' Almighty's hand:
Our foes of victory dream in vain,
And wear the captivating chain.

6 He builds and guards the British throne,
And makes it gracious like his own,
Makes our successive princes kind,
And gives our dangers to the wind.]

7 Raise monumental praises high
To him that thunders thro' the sky,
And with an awful nod or frown
Shakes an aspiring tyrant down.

8 [Pillars of lasting brass proclaim
The triumphs of th' eternal Name;
While trembling nations read from far
The honours of the God of war.]

9 Thus let our flaming zeal employ
Our loftiest thoughts and loudest songs
Britain pronounce with warmest joy
Hosanna from ten thousand tongues.

10 Yet, mighty God, our feeble frame
Attempts in vain to reach thy Name;
The strongest notes that angels raise
Faint in the worship and the praise.


Hymn 2:2.
The death of a sinner.

1 My thoughts on awful subjects roll,
Damnation and the dead;
What horrors seize the guilty soul
Upon a dying bed!

2 Lingering about these mortal shores,
She makes a long delay,
Till like a flood with rapid force
Death sweeps the wretch away.

3 Then swift and dreadful she descends
Down to the fiery coast,
Amongst abominable fiends,
Herself a frightful ghost.

4 There endless crowds of sinners lie,
And darkness makes their chains;
Tortur'd with keen despair they cry,
Yet wait for fiercer pains.

5 Not all their anguish and their blood
For their old guilt atones,
Nor the compassions of a God
Shall hearken to their groans.

6 Amazing grace, that kept my breath,
Nor bid my soul remove,
Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death,
And well insur'd his love!


Hymn 2:3.
The death and burial of a saint.

1 Why do we mourn departing friends
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too
As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he bless'd,
And soften'd every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying head?

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And shew'd our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly
At the great rising day.

6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise,
Awake, ye nations under ground,
Ye saints, ascend the skies.


Hymn 2:4.
Salvation in the cross.

1 Here at thy cross, my dying God,
I lay my soul beneath thy love,
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus, nor shall it e'er remove.

2 Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.

3 Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie;
Resolv'd (for that's my last defence)
If I must perish, there to die.

4 But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear,
Am I not safe beneath thy, shade?
Thy vengeance will not strike me here,
Nor Satan dares my soul invade.

5 Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood,
And all my foes shall lose their aim,
Hosanna to my dying God,
And my best honours to his Name.


Hymn 2:5.
Longing to praise Christ better.

1 Lord, when my thoughts with wonder roll
O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul,
And read my Maker's broken laws
Repair'd and honour'd by thy cross;

2 When I behold death, hell and sin,
Vanquish'd by that dear blood of thine,
And see the man that groan'd and dy'd
Sit glorious by his Father's side;

3 My passions rise and soar above,
I'm wing'd with faith and fir'd with love;
Fain would I reach eternal things,
And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.

4 But my heart fails, my tongue complains,
For want of their immortal strains;
And in such humble notes as these
Must fall below thy victories.

5 Well, the kind minute must appear
When we shall leave these bodies here,
These clogs of clay, and mount on high,
To join the songs above the sky.


Hymn 2:6.
A morning song.

1 Once more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes.
Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To him that rolls the skies.

2 Night unto night his name repeats,
The day renews the sound,
Wide as the heaven on which he sits
To turn the seasons round.

3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame,
My tongue shall speak his praise;
My sins would rouse his wrath to flame,
And yet his wrath delays.

4 On a poor worm thy power might tread,
And I could ne'er withstand;
Thy justice might have crush'd me dead,
But mercy held thine hand.

5 A thousand wretched souls are fled
Since the last setting sun,
And yet thou length'nest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.

6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine
Whilst I enjoy the light,
Then shall my sun in smiles decline,
And bring a pleasing night.


Hymn 2:7.
An evening song.

1 [Dread Sovereign, let my evening song
Like holy incense rise;
Assist the offerings of my tongue
To reach the lofty skies.

2 Thro' all the dangers of the day,
Thy hand was still my guard,
And still to drive my wants away
Thy mercy stood prepar'd.]

3 Perpetual blessings from above
Encompass me around,
But O how few returns of love
Hath my Creator found!

4 What have I done for him that dy'd
To save my wretched soul?
How are my follies multiply'd,
Fast as my minutes roll;

5 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine
To thy dear cross I flee,
And to thy grace my soul resign
To be renew'd by thee.

6 Sprinkled afresh with pardoning blood
I lay me down to rest,
As in th' embraces of my God,
Or on my Saviour's breast.


Hymn 2:8.
A hymn for morning or evening.

1 Hosanna, with a cheerful sound,
To God's upholding hand;
Ten thousand snares attend us round,
And yet secure we stand.

2 That was a most amazing power
That rais'd us with a word,
And every day and every hour
We lean upon the Lord.

3 The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;
We wake and we admire the bed
That was not made our tomb.

4 The rising morning can't assure
That we shall end the day,
For death stands ready at the door
To seize our lives away.

5 Our breath is forfeited by sin
To God's revenging law;
We own thy grace, immortal King,
In every gasp we draw.

6 God is our sun, whose daily light
Our joy and safety brings:
Our feeble flesh lies safe at night
Beneath his shady wings.


Hymn 2:9.
Godly sorrow arising from the sufferings of Christ.

1 Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,
And did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

2 [Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine,
And bath'd in its own blood,
While all expos'd to wrath divine
The glorious Sufferer stood.]

3 Was it for crimes that I had done
He groan'd upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

4 Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,
When God the mighty Maker dy'd
For man the creature's sin.

5 Thus might I hide my blushing face
While his dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.

6 But drops of grief can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away,
'Tis all that I can do.


Hymn 2:10.
Parting with carnal joys.

1 My soul forsakes her vain delight,
And bids the world farewell
Base as the dirt beneath my feet,
And mischievous as hell.

2 No longer will I ask your love,
Nor seek your friendship more;
The happiness that I approve
Lies not within your power.

3 There's nothing round this spacious earth
That suits my large desire;
To boundless joy and solid mirth
My nobler thoughts aspire.

4 [Where pleasure rolls its living flood,
From sin and dross refin'd,
Still springing from the throne of God,
And fit to cheer the mind.

5 Th' Almighty Ruler of the sphere,
The glorious and the great,
Brings his own all-sufficience there,
To make our bliss complete.]

6 Had I the pinions of a dove,
I'd climb the heavenly road;
There sits my Saviour dress'd in love,
And there my smiling God.
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