Hymn 52-

Isaac Watts

 Next Poem          

Death dreadful or delightful.

Death! 'Tis a melancholy day
To those that have no God,
When the poor soul is forced away
To seek her last abode.

In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes,
But guilt, a heavy chain,
Still drags her downward from the skies
To darkness, fire, and pain.

Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell,
Let stubborn sinners fear,
You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell
A long forever there.

See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your face:
And thou, my soul, look downwards too,
And sing recov'ring grace.

He is a God of sovereign love
That promised heav'n to me,
And taught my thoughts to soar above,
Where happy spirits be.

Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,
Then come the joyful day,
Come, death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away.

Next Poem 

 Back to Isaac Watts
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


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