Isaac Watts

Ascension Feast of Justin, Martyr at Rome, c.165 Commemoration of Angela de'Merici, Founder of the Institute of St. Ursula, 1540 read more

Ascension Feast of Justin, Martyr at Rome, c.165 Commemoration of Angela de'Merici, Founder of the Institute of St. Ursula, 1540 Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Does its successive journeys run, His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. For him shall endless prayer be made, And princes throng to crown his head; His name, like sweet perfume, shall rise With every morning sacrifice. People and realms of every tongue Dwell on his love with sweetest song, And infant-voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on his name. Blessings abound where'er he reigns; The prisoners leap to lose their chains; The weary find eternal rest, And all the sons of want are blest. Let every creature rise and bring Honors peculiar to our King; Angels descend with songs again, And earth repeat the loud amen.

But Thy good word informs my soul
How I may climb to heaven.

But Thy good word informs my soul
How I may climb to heaven.

PSALM 126 The Lord can clear the darkest skies Can give us day for night. Make drops of sacred read more

PSALM 126 The Lord can clear the darkest skies Can give us day for night. Make drops of sacred sorrow rise To rivers of delight.

The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, read more

The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, Or venture near his throne? The great invisible! He dwells Conceal'd in dazzling light: But his all-searching eye reveals The secrets of the night. Those watchful eyes that never sleep, Survey the world around; His wisdom is the boundless deep, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. He knows no shadow of a change, Nor alters his decrees; Firm as a rock his truth remains, To guard his promises. Justice, upon a dreadful throne, Maintains the rights of God; While mercy sends her pardons down, Bought with a Saviour's blood. Now to my soul immortal King, Speak some forgiving word; Then `twill be double joy to sing The glories of my Lord.

But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
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But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
- Isaac Watts,