
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
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Lord, if thine eye surveys our faults, And justice grows severe, Thy dreadful wrath exceeds our thoughts, And burns beyond our fear.
2. Thine anger turns our frame to dust;
3. Life, like a vain amusement, flies, |
4. 'Tis but a few whose days amount To threescore years and ten; And all beyond that short account Is sorrow, toil, and pain.
5. Our vitals with laborious strife
6. Almighty God, reveal thy love, |
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7. Our souls would learn the heav'nly art T' improve the hours we have, That we may act the wiser part, And live beyond the grave. |

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