The Promises of the Covenant of Grace

In vain we lavish out our lives
To gather empty wind;
The choicest blessings earth can yield
Will starve a hungry mind.

Come, and the Lord shall feed our souls
With more substantial meat,
With such as saints in glory love,
With such as angels eat.

Our God will every want supply,
And fill our hearts with peace;
He gives by cov’nant and by oath
The riches of his grace.

Come, and he’ll cleanse our spotted souls,
And wash away our stains
In the dear fountain that his Son
Poured from his dying veins.

[Our guilt shall vanish all away,
Though black as hell before;
Our sins shall sink beneath the sea,
And shall be found no more.

And, lest pollution should o’erspread
Our inward powers again,
His Spirit shall bedew our souls,
Like purifying rain.]

Our heart, that flinty, stubborn thing,
That terrors cannot move,
That fears no threat’nings of his wrath,
Shall be dissolved by love.

Or he can take the flint away
That would not be refined;
And from the treasures of his grace
Bestow a softer mind.

There shall his sacred Spirit dwell,
And deep engrave his law,
And every motion of our souls
To swift obedience draw.

Thus will he pour salvation down,
And we shall render praise;
We the dear people of his love,
And he our God of grace.

~ Isaac Watts

How Sweet and Awsome is this Place

How sweet and awesome is this place

With Christ within the doors,

While everlasting love displays

The choicest of her stores!

Here every bowel of our God

With soft compassion rolls;

Here peace and pardon bought with blood

Is food for dying souls.

While all our hearts and all our songs

Join to admire the feast,

Each of us cry, with thankful tongues,

“Lord, why was I a guest?

“Why was I made to hear Thy voice,

And enter while there’s room,

When thousands make a wretched choice,

And rather starve than come?”

’Twas the same love that spread the feast

That sweetly drew us in;

Else we had still refused to taste,

And perished in our sin.

Pity the nations, O our God!

Constrain the earth to come;

Send Thy victorious Word abroad,

And bring the strangers home.

We long to see Thy churches full,

That all the chosen race

May with one voice, and heart and soul,

Sing Thy redeeming grace.

~ Isaac Watts

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