Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
The King of saints, how fair his face,|
Adorned with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to his love.
2. At his right hand our eyes behold
3. He forms her beauties like his own;
4. So shall the King the more rejoice|
In thee, the favorite of his choice;
Let him be loved, and yet adored,
For he's thy Maker and thy Lord.
5. O happy hour, when thou shalt rise
6. Let endless honors crown his head;
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