Hymn 88

Isaac Watts

 Next Poem          

Salvation.

Salvation! O the joyful sound!
'Tis pleasure to our ears;
A sovereign balm for every wound,
A cordial for our fears.

Buried in sorrow and in sin,
At hell's dark door we lay;
But we arise by grace Divine
To see a heav'nly day.

Salvation! let the echo fly
The spacious earth around,
While all the armies of the sky
Conspire to raise the sound.

Next Poem 

 Back to Isaac Watts

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.