Isaac Watts

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How precious, Lord, Thy sacred Word,
What light and joy those leaves afford
To souls in deep distress!
Thy precepts guide our doubtful way,
Thy fear forbids our feet to stray,
Thy promise leads to rest.

Thy threat'nings wake our slum'bring eyes,
And warn us where our danger lies;
But 'tis Thy Gospel, Lord,
That makes the guilty conscience clean,
Converts the soul, and conquers sin,
And gives a free reward.