I'll bless the Lord from day to day;
How good are all his ways!
Ye humble souls that use to pray,
Come, help my lips to praise.
Sing to the honor of his name,
How a poor suff'rer cried,
Nor was his hope exposed to shame,
Nor was his suit denied.
When threat'ning sorrows round me stood,
And endless fears arose,
Like the loud billows of a flood,
Redoubling all my woes;
I told the Lord my sore distress,
With heavy groans and tears;
He gave my sharpest torments ease,
And silenced all my fears.
[O sinners, come and taste his love,
Come, learn his pleasant ways;
And let your own experience prove
The sweetness of his grace.
He bids his angels pitch their tents
Round where his children dwell;
What ills their heav'nly care prevents
No earthly tongue can tell.]
[O love the Lord, ye saints of his;
His eye regards the just:
How richly blest their portion is
Who make the Lord their trust!
Young lions, pinched with hunger, roar
And famish in the wood;
But God supplies his holy poor
With every needful good.]
Source: Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts, The #Ps.79
Isaac Watts was the son of a schoolmaster, and was born in Southampton, July 17, 1674. He is said to have shown remarkable precocity in childhood, beginning the study of Latin, in his fourth year, and writing respectable verses at the age of seven. At the age of sixteen, he went to London to study in the Academy of the Rev. Thomas Rowe, an Independent minister. In 1698, he became assistant minister of the Independent Church, Berry St., London. In 1702, he became pastor. In 1712, he accepted an invitation to visit Sir Thomas Abney, at his residence of Abney Park, and at Sir Thomas' pressing request, made it his home for the remainder of his life. It was a residence most favourable for his health, and for the prosecution of his literary… Go to person page >
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