Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
O Lord, how many are my foes,|
In this weak state of flesh and blood!
My peace they daily discompose,
But my defence and hope is God.
2. Tired with the burdens of the day,
3. Supported by thine heav'nly aid,|
I laid me down, and slept secure:
Not death should make my heart afraid,
Though I should wake and rise no more.
4. But God sustained me all the night:
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