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Now plead my cause, Almighty God,
With all the sons of strife;
And fight against the men of blood,
Who fight against my life.
Draw out thy spear and stop their way,
Lift thine avenging rod;
But to my soul in mercv say,
"I am thy Savior God!"
They plant their snares to catch my feet,
And nets of mischief spread;
Plunge the destroyers in the pit
That their own hands have made.
Let fogs and darkness hide their way,
And slipp'ry be their ground;
Thy wrath shall make their lives a prey,
And all their rage confound.
They fly like chaff before the wind,
Before thine angry breath;
The angel of the Lord behind
Pursues them down to death.
They love the road that leads to hell;
Then let the rebels die,
Whose malice is implacable
Against the Lord on high.
But if thou hast a chosen few
Amongst that impious race,
Divide them from the bloody crew,
By thy surprising grace.
Then will I raise my tuneful voice,
To make thy wonders known;
In their salvation I'll rejoice,
And bless thee for my own.
Behold the love, the gen'rous love,
That holy David shows;
Hark, how his sounding bowels move
To his afflicted foes !
When they are sick his soul complains,
And seems to feel the smart;
The spirit of the gospel reigns,
And melts his pious heart.
How did his flowing tears condole
As for a brother dead !
And fasting mortified his soul,
While for their life he prayed.
They groaned, and cursed him on their bed,
Yet still he pleads and mourns;
And double blessings on his head
The righteous God returns,
Glorious type of heav'nly grace !
Thus Christ the Lord appears;
While sinners curse, the Savior prays,
And pities them with tears.
He, the true David, Isr'el's King,
Blessed and beloved of God,
To save us rebels, dead in sin,
Paid his own dearest blood.
Isaac Watts
Read poems about / on: smart, sick, brother, angel, god, wind, death, son
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Isaac Watts
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