Thursday, April 30, 2009

Fancy, big-worded poetry

I'm reading Knowing God by JI Packer (still) and I came across this poem by Isaac Watts in the chapter 'The Grace of God' - enjoy and comment as you see fit!

But there's a voice of princely grace
Sounds from God's holy Word;
Ho! ye poor captive sinners, come,
And trust upon the Lord.

My soul obeys the sovereign call,
And runs to this relief;
I would believe thy promise, Lord,
Oh, help my unbelief.

To the blest fountain of thy blood,
Incarnate God, I fly,
To wash my soul from scarlet stains,
And sins of deepest dye.

A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
Into thy hands I fall;
Thou art the Lord, my righteousness,
My Saviour, and my all.

I love it. You?

Ephesians 2:5!

Much love
Wayne
James 1:22