Psalm 11 by Isaac Watts

My refuge is the God of love;
Why do my foes insult and cry,
"Fly like a tim'rous, trembling dove,
To distant woods or mountains fly?"

If government be all destroyed,
(That firm foundation of our peace,)
And violence make justice void,
Where shall the righteous seek redress?

The Lord in heav'n has fixed his throne,
His eye surveys the world below:
To him all mortal things are known,
His eyelids search our spirits through.

If he afflicts his saints so far,
To prove their love and try their grace,
What may the bold transgressors fear?
His very soul abhors their ways.

On impious wretches he shall rain
Tempests of brimstone, fire, and death;
Such as he kindled on the plain
Of Sodom, with his angry breath.

The righteous Lord loves righteous souls,
Whose thoughts and actions are sincere;
And with a gracious eye beholds
The men that his own image bear.

by Isaac Watts

Other poems by 'Isaac Watts'

Hymn 121

Hymn 122

Hymn 152

Hymn 153

Hymn 154

Hymn 155

Hymn 156

Hymn 157

Hymn 158

Hymn 159

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