Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
My God, how many are my fears!|
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.
2. The lying tempter would persuade
3. But thou, my glory and my strength,
4. I cried, and from his holy lull
5. He shed soft slumbers on mine eyes,|
In spite of all my foes;
I woke, and wondered at the grace
That guarded my repose.
6. What though the hosts of death and hell
7. Arise, O Lord, fulfil thy grace,
8. Salvation to the Lord belongs;
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