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Isaac Watts

Isaac Watts


Isaac Watts is recognised as the "Father of English Hymnody", as he was the first prolific and popular English hymnwriter, credited with some 750 hymns. Many of his hymns remain in active use today and have been translated into many languages.

His education led him to the pastorate of a large Independent Chapel in London, and he also found himself in the position of helping trainee preachers, despite poor health. Taking work as a private tutor, he lived with the non-conformist Hartopp family at Fleetwood House, Abney Park in Stoke Newington, and later in the household of Sir Thomas Abney and Lady Mary Abney at Theobalds, Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire, and at their second residence, Abney House, Stoke Newington.

Though a non-conformist, Sir Thomas practised occasional conformity to the Church of England as necessitated by his being Lord Mayor of London 1700-01. Likewise, Isaac Watts held religious opinions that were more non-denominational or ecumenical than was at that time common for a non-conformist, having a greater interest in promoting education and scholarship, than preaching for any particular ministry.
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Isaac Watts

Hosanna To The Royal Son

Hosanna to the royal son Of David's ancient line! His natures two, his person one, Mysterious and divine. The root of David, here we find, And offspring, are the same: Eternity and time are joined In our Immanuel's name. Blest he that comes to wretched man With peaceful news from Heaven! Hosannas, o... Read More
Isaac Watts

Infinite Grief! Amazing Woe!

Infinite grief! amazing woe! Behold my bleeding Lord: Hell and the Jews conspired his death, And used the Roman sword. Oh the sharp pangs of smarting pain My dear Redeemer bore, When knotty whips, and ragged thorns His sacred body tore! But knotty whips and ragged thorns In vain do I accuse, In vain... Read More
Isaac Watts

Naked As From The Earth We Came

(Job 1:21) Naked as from the earth we came, And crept to life at first, We to the earth return again, And mingle with our dust. The dear delights we here enjoy And fondly call our own Are but short favours borrowed now To be repaid anon. 'Tis God that lifts our comforts high, Or sinks 'em in the gra... Read More
Isaac Watts

O God, Our Help In Ages Past

1 O God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home. 2 Under the shadow of thy throne Thy saints have dwelt secure; Sufficient is thine arm alone, And our defence is sure. 3 Before the hills in order stood, Or earth receiv'd her frame, ... Read More
Isaac Watts

Our Days, Alas! Our Mortal Days

Our days, alas! our mortal days Are short and wretched too; Evil and few, the patriarch says, And well the patriarch knew. 'Tis but at best a narrow bound That Heaven allows to men, And pains and sins run through the round Of threescore years and ten. Well, if ye must be sad and few, Run on, my days... Read More
Isaac Watts

There Is A Land Of Pure Delight

There is a land of pure delight Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers: Death like a narrow sea divides This heavenly land from ours. Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand dressed in... Read More
Isaac Watts

Thus Saith The Ruler Of The Skies

Thus saith the Ruler of the Skies, Awake my dreadful Sword; Awake my Wrath, and smite the Man My fellow, saith the Lord. Vengeance receiv'd the dread command, And armed down she flies, Jesus submits to his Father's hand, And bows his head and dies. But oh! the Wisdom and the Grace That join with Ven... Read More
Isaac Watts

We Are A Garden Wall'd Around

We are a Garden wall'd around, Chosen and made peculiar Ground; A little Spot inclos'd by Grace Out of the World's wide Wilderness. Like Trees of Myrrh and Spice we stand, Planted by God the Father's Hand; And all his Springs in Sion flow, To make the young Plantation grow. Awake, O heavenly Wind, a... Read More
Isaac Watts

When I Survey The Wondrous Cross

(Galatians 6:14) When I survey the wondrous Cross Where the young Prince of Glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride. Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood... Read More
Isaac Watts

Where-E'er My Flatt'ring Passions Rove

Where-e'er my flatt'ring Passions rove I find a lurking snare; 'Tis dangerous to let loose our love Beneath th'eternal fair. Souls whom the tie of friendship binds, And partners of our blood, Seize a large portion of our minds, And leave the less for God. Nature has soft but powerful bands, And reas... Read More

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