Triumph over death.
Job 19:25-27.
Great God, I own thy sentence just,
And nature must decay;
I yield my body to the dust,
To dwell with fellow clay.
Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave,
And trample on the tombs
My Jesus, my Redeemer, lives;
My God, my Savior, comes.
The mighty Conqueror shall appear
High on a royal seat,
And death, the last of all his foes,
Lie vanquished at his feet.
Though greedy worms devour my skin,
And gnaw my wasting flesh,
When God shall build my bones again,
He clothes them all afresh.
Then shall I see thy lovely face
With strong immortal eyes;
And feast upon thy unknown grace
With pleasure and surprise.
Hymn 6
Isaac Watts
(1)
Poem topics: faith, nature, pleasure, great, strong, face, skin, unknown, grave, dust, high, body, jesus, sentence, death, triumph, god, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Hymn 6 poem by Isaac Watts
Best Poems of Isaac Watts