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Poem by Isaac Watts Hymn 73 The church's beauty in the eyes of Christ. SS 4:1-11. Kind is the speech of Christ our Lord, Affection sounds in every word: Lo! thou art fair, my love," he cries, "Not the young doves have sweeter eyes." ["Sweet are thy lips, thy pleasing voice Salutes mine ear with secret joys; No spice so much delights the smell, Nor milk nor honey tastes so well.] "Thou art all fair, my bride, to me, I will behold no spot in thee." What mighty wonders love performs, And puts a comeliness on worms! Defiled and loathsome as we are, He makes us white, and calls us fair; Adorns us with that heav'nly dress, His graces and his righteousness. "My sister and my spouse," he cries, "Bound to my heart by various ties, Thy powerful love my heart detains In strong delight and pleasing chains." He calls me from the leopard's den, From this wild world of beasts and men, To Zion, where his glories are; Not Lebanon is half so fair. Nor dens of prey, nor flowery plains, Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains, Shall hold my feet or force my stay, When Christ invites my soul away. Isaac Watts Isaac Watts's other poems: 1287 Views |
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