The Works of the English Poets: Watts

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H. Hughs, 1779
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Página 98 - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo, what fudden joys I fee ! Jefus the dead revives again. The rifing God forfakes the tomb, Up to his father's court he flies; Cherubic legions guard him home, And
Página 333 - The goodnefs of the Lord ; But fruits of life and glory grow In thy moft holy word. Here are my choiceft treafures hid, Here my beft comfort lies ; Here my defires are fatisfy'd, And hence my hopes arife. Lord, make me underftand thy law ; Shew what my thoughts have been
Página 45 - Red comets lift their banners high, And wide proclaim his wars. Chain'd to his throne a volume lies, , With all the fates of men, With every angel's form and fize, Drawn by th' eternal pen. His providence unfolds the book, And makes his
Página 337 - by death to hear their doom. Let me improve the hours I have, Before the day of grace is fled ; There's no repentance in the grave, Nor pardons offer'd to the dead. Juft as a tree cut down, that fell To North or Southward, there is lies
Página 328 - s not a plant or flower below, But makes thy glories known ; And clouds arife, and tempefts blow, By order from thy throne. 'Creatures ,(as numerous as they be) Are
Página 98 - Come, faints, and drop a tear or two, On the dear bofom of your God, He fhed a thoufand drops for you, A thoufand drops of richer blood. Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo, what fudden joys I fee ! Jefus the dead revives again. The
Página 366 - without thy care or payment, All thy wants are well fupply'd. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven he defcended, And became a child like thee
Página 360 - doves in a large open cage, When they play all in love, without anger or rage, How much may we learn from the fight! If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud ; Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood ; So foul and fo fierce are their natures
Página 328 - with beams of love, With wrath in hell beneath ! 'Tis on his earth I ftand or move, And 'tis his air I breathe. His hand is my perpetual guard; He keeps me with his eye
Página 330 - and fteal; Lord, I am taught thy name to fear, And do thy holy will.. Are thefe thy favours day by day To me above the reft ? Then let me love Thee more than they, And try to ferve thee

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