Isaac Watts

(17 July 1674 – 25 November 1748 / Southampton / England)

Hymn 100


Believe and be saved.

John 3:16-18.

Not to condemn the sons of men,
Did Christ, the Son of God, appear;
No weapons in his hands are seen,
No flaming sword nor thunder there.

Such was the pity of our God,
He loved the race of man so well,
He sent his Son to bear our load
Of sins, and save our souls from hell.

Sinners, believe the Savior's word,
Trust in his mighty name and live;
A thousand joys his lips afford,
His hands a thousand blessings give.

But vengeance and damnation lies
On rebels who refuse the grace;
Who God's eternal Son despise,
The hottest hell shall be their place.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: son, believe, trust, god, joy

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Hymn 100 by Isaac Watts )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Church Woman (Saint in Progress), Doug Blair
  2. Invisible Monster, Dan Walker
  3. Dead Veg, Richard Lee
  4. House of Cards, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  5. Flying Turtles, Richard Lee
  6. The Guaca-mole, Richard Lee
  7. Pop goes the Easel, Richard Lee
  8. Word of mouth from the people of audacio.., Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
  9. House Spiders, Judith Vollmer
  10. Divine Bird, Somanathan Iyer

Poem of the Day

poet Emily Dickinson

239

"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree—
Provided it do hopeless—hang—
That—"Heaven" is—to Me!

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet John Burroughs

 

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]