THE Sufferings and Glories OF CHRIST. A SONG In Trisyllable Feet. Isaac Watts Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T82397 K067329.000 Watts, Isaac, 1674-1748. Horæ lyricæ: Poems, chiefly of the lyric kind. In two books. ... By I. Watts. London Printed by S. and D. Bridge, for John Lawrence at the Sign of the Angel in the Poultrey. MDCCVI. 1706 pp. 37-39. [20],267,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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THE Sufferings and Glories OF CHRIST . A SONG In Trisyllable Feet . I. I Long for a Consort of Heavenly Praise , To Jesus the God , the Omnipotent Son , My Voice should awake in Harmonious Lays , Could it tell half the Wonders that Jesus has done . II . I would sing how he left his own Palace of Light , And Robes made of Glory that dress'd him above ; Yet pleas'd with his Journey , and swift was his Flight , For he rode on the Pinions of Infinite Love . III . Far down to the Place of our distant Abode He came ( we adore him ) to raise us on high ; He came to attone the Revenge of a God , And he took up a Life to be able to die . IV . All Hell and its Lyons stood Roaring around , His Flesh and his Spirit with Malice they tore ; While Worlds of Sorrow lay pressing him down , As vast as the Burden of Sins that he bore . V. Fast bound in the Chains of Imperious Death The Infinite Captive a Prisoner lay , The Infinite Captive arose from the Earth , And leap't to the Hills of Ethereal Day . VI . Then mention no more of the Wrath of a God ; Of the Lyons of Hell and their Roarings no more ; We lift up our Eyes to his Shining Abode , And our loudest Hosannahs his Name shall adore . VII . We crown the Triumpher with the Honours he won , Hosannah thro' all the Coelestial Groves ! The God and the Man ! how he fills up his Throne ! How He sits ! how He shines ! how He looks ! how He Loves ! VIII . O happy ye Heavens , and happy ye Hills Where he treads with his Feet and diffuseth his Grace , While Mercy and Majesty , Glories and Smiles Play gently around the sweet Air of his Face . IX . Amongst a full Choir of Archangels and Songs The Mighty Redeemer Eternally reigns , And the Sound of his Name from a Million of Tongues Flies o're the bright Mountains and blesses the Plains .