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Poem by Isaac Watts
The joy of a remarkable conversion; or, Melancholy removed. When God revealed his gracious name, And changed my mournful state, My rapture seemed a pleasing dream, The grace appeared so great. The world beheld the glorious change, And did thy hand confess; My tongue broke out in unknown strains, And sung surprising grace. "Great is the work," my neighbors cried, And owned the power divine; "Great is the work," my heart replied, "And be the glory thine." The Lord can clear the darkest skies, Can give us day for night; Make drops of sacred sorrow rise To rivers of delight. Let those that sow in sadness wait Till the fair harvest come, They shall confess their sheaves are great, And shout the blessings home. Though seed lie buried long in dust, It shan't deceive their hope; The precious grain can ne'er be lost, For grace insures the crop.
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