Isaac Watts Poems

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v.17-21
C. M.
Public praise for deliverance from death.

Lord, thou hast heard thy servant cry
And rescued from the grave;
Now shall he live; and none can die,
If God resolve to save.

Thy praise, more constant than before,
Shall fill his daily breath;
Thy hand, that hath chastised him sore,
Defends him still from death.

Open the gates of Zion now,
For we shall worship there;
The house where all the righteous go
Thy mercy to declare.

Among th' assemblies of thy saints
Our thankful voice we raise;
There we have told thee our complaints,
And there we speak thy praise.

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