Poem by Isaac Watts

Psalm 17

v.13-15
S. M.
Portion of saints and sinners.

Arise, my gracious God,
And make the wicked flee;
They are but thy chastising rod,
To drive thy saints to thee.

Behold, the sinner dies,
His haughty words are vain;
Here in this life his pleasure lies,
And all beyond is pain.

Then let his pride advance,
And boast of all his store;
The Lord is my inheritance,
My soul can wish no more.

I shall behold the face
Of my forgiving God;
And stand complete in righteousness,
Washed in my Savior's blood.

There's a new heav'n begun,
When I awake from death,
Dressed in the likeness of thy Son,
And draw immortal breath. 

1. Psalm 46. Part 1 (God is the refuge of his saints)
2. Hymn 99 (Let the whole race of creatures lie)
3. Psalm 150 (In God's own house pronounce his praise)
4. Psalm 136 (Give thanks to God most high)
5. Psalm 121 (To heav'n I lift my waiting eyes)

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