Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
We bless the Lord, the just, the good,|
Who fills our hearts with joy and food:
Who pours his blessings from the skies,
And loads our days with rich supplies.
2. He sends the sun his circuit round,
3. 'Tis to his care we owe our breath,
4. He makes the saint and sinner prove|
The common blessings of his love;
But the wide diff'rence that remains,
Is endless joy, or endless pains.
5. The Lord, that bruised the serpent's head,
6. But his right hand his saints shall raise
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