The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
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The Song of Angels above.
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
The Song of Angels above.
I
Earth has detain'd me prisoner long,And I'm grown weary now:
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
There's nothing here for you.
II
Tir'd in my thoughts I stretch me down,And upward glance mine eyes.
Upward, my Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.
III
There the dear Man, my Saviour sits,The God, how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
442
IV
Seraphs with elevated strainsCircle the throne around,
And move and charm the starry plains
With an immoral sound.
V
Jesus the Lord their harps employs,Jesus my love they sing,
Jesus the name of both our joys
Sounds sweet from ev'ry string.
VI
Hark, how beyond the narrow boundsOf time and space they run,
And speak in most majestic sounds,
The Godhead of the Son.
VII
How on the Father's breast he lay,The darling of his soul.
Infinite years before the day
Or heavens began to roll.
VIII
And now they sink the lofty tone,And gentler notes they play,
And bring th'eternal Godhead down
To dwell in humble clay.
IX
O sacred beauties of the Man!(The God resides within)
His flesh all pure, without a stain,
His soul without a sin.
X
Then, how he look'd, and how he smil'd,What wondrous things he said!
Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here a while,
And tell what Jesus did.
XI
At his command the blind awake,And feel the gladsome rays;
He bids the dumb attempt to speak,
They try their tongues in praise.
XII
He shed a thousand blessings roundWhere'er he turn'd his eye;
He spoke, and at the sov'reign sound
The hellish legions fly.
XIII
Thus while with unambitious strifeTh'ethereal minstrels rove
Thro' all the labours of his life,
And wonders of his love.
XIV
In the full choir a broken stringGroans with a strange surprize;
The rest in silence mourn their King,
That bleeds, and loves, and dies.
XV
Seraph and saint, with drooping wings,Cease their harmonious breath;
No blooming trees, nor bubbling springs,
While Jesus sleeps in death.
XVI
Then all at once to living strainsThey summon every chord,
Break up the tomb, and burst his chains,
And show their rising Lord.
XVII
Around the flaming army throngsTo guard him to the skies,
With loud hosannas on their tongues,
And triumph in their eyes.
XVIII
In awful state the conqu'ring GodAscends his shining throne,
While tuneful angels sound abroad
The vict'ries he has won.
XIX
Now let me rise, and join their song,And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.
XX
I would begin the music here,And so my soul should rise:
Oh for some heavenly notes to bear
My spirit to the skies!
XXI
There, ye that love my Saviour, sit,There I would fain have place,
Amongst your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face.
XXII
I am confin'd to earth no more,But mount in haste above,
To bless the God that I adore,
And sing the Man I love.
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |