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

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Hymn 159

An unconverted state; or, Converting grace.

[Great King of glory and of grace,
We own, with humble shame,
How vile is our degen'rate race,
And our first father's name.]

From Adam flows our tainted blood,
The poison reigns within;
Makes us averse to all that's good,
And willing slaves to sin.

[Daily we break thy holy laws,
And then reject thy grace;
Engaged in the old serpent's cause,
Against our Maker's face.l

We live estranged afar from God,
And love the distance well;
With haste we run the dangerous road
That leads to death and hell.

And can such rebels be restored?
Such natures made divine?
Let sinners see thy glory, Lord,
And feel this power of thine.

We raise our Fathers name on high
Who his own Spirit sends
To bring rebellious strangers nigh,
And turn his foes to friends.

Isaac Watts
Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004


Read poems about / on: father, power, death, god, friend, running

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