The Poetical Works of Isaac Watts ...: Collated with the Best Editions, Volumes 1-2

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Page 205 - How much better thou'rt attended Than the- Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee...
Page 181 - twill for ever be in vain To cry for pardon and for grace ; To wish I had my time again, Or hope to see my Maker's face.
Page 204 - How fine has the day been, how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run, Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain! But now the fair traveller's come to the west, rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, And foretells a bright rising again.
Page 177 - ALMIGHTY GOD, thy piercing eye Strikes through the shades of night, And our most secret actions lie All open to thy sight. There's not a sin that we commit, Nor wicked word we say, But in thy dreadful book 'tis writ Against the judgment-day.
Page 169 - Lord, how Thy wonders are displayed, Where'er I turn mine eye ! If I survey the ground I tread, Or gaze upon the sky.
Page 104 - Such shall the noise be and the wild disorder, (If things eternal may be like these earthly) Such the dire terror, when the great Archangel Shakes the creation, Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven, Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes; See the graves open, and the bones arising, Flames all around 'em!
Page 184 - But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes. Let love through all your actions run, And all your words be mild; Live like the blessed Virgin's Son, That sweet and lovely child. His soul was gentle as a lamb; And as his stature grew, He grew in favour both with man, And God his Father too. Now Lord of all he reigns above, And from his heavenly throne, He sees what children dwell in love, And marks them for his own.
Page 106 - Seraphs, with elevated strains, Circle the throne around ; And move and charm the starry plains With an immortal sound.
Page 187 - HOW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower...
Page 187 - In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.

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