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The Book of Praise. |
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CCCLXVI.
O happy soul, that lives on high,
While men lie grovelling here ! His hopes are fix'd above the sky,
And faith forbids his fear.
His conscience knows no secret stings;
While peace and joy combine To form a life, whose holy springs
Are hidden and divine.
He waits in secret on his God,
His God in secret sees ; Let earth be all in arms abroad,
He dwells in heavenly peace.
His pleasures rise from things unseen,
Beyond this world and time, Where neither eyes nor ears have been,
Nor thoughts of sinners climb.
He wants no pomp, nor royal throne,
To raise his figure here ; Content and pleased to live unknown,
Till Christ, his Life, appear.
He looks to Heaven's eternal hill,
To meet that glorious day; And patient waits his Saviour's will,
To fetch his soul away.
Isaac Watts. 1709. |
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