Text:Christ the King at his table
Author:Isaac Watts, 1674-1748

I.LXVI. Christ the King at his table

1 Let him embrace my soul, and prove
My int'rest in his heav'nly love;
The voice that tells me, "Thou art mine,"
Exceeds the blessings of the vine.

2 On thee th' anointing Spirit came,
And spreads the savour of thy name;
That oil of gladness and of grace
Draws virgin souls to meet thy face.

3 Jesus, allure me by thy charms;
My soul shall fly into thine arms!
Our wand'ring feet thy favours bring
To the fair chambers of the King.

4 [Wonder and pleasure tune our voice
To speak thy praises and our joys;
Our mem'ry keeps this love of thine
Beyond the taste of richest wine.]

5 Tho' in ourselves deform'd we are,
And black as Kedar's tents appear;
Yet when we put thy beauties on,
Fair as the courts of Solomon.

[6 While at his table sits the King,
He loves to see us smile and sing;
Our graces are our best perfume,
And breathe like spikenard round the room.]

7 As myrrh new-bleeding from the tree,
Such is a dying Christ to me;
And while he makes my soul his guest
My bosom, Lord, shall be thy rest.

8 [No beams of cedar or of fir
Can with thy courts on earth compare,
And here we wait until thy love
Raise us to nobler seats above.]

Text Information
First Line: Let him embrace my soul and prove
Title: Christ the King at his table
Author: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
Meter: C. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1793
Scripture: ; ;
Tune Information
(No tune information)



Suggestions or corrections? Contact us