Dr. Watts's Imitation of the Psalms of David ‎#189b

189b. Think, mighty God, on feeble man

1 Think, mighty God, on feeble man,
How few his hours, how short his span!
Short from the cradle to the grave:
Who can secure his vital breath
Against the bold demands of death,
With skill to fly, or pow'r to save?

2 Lord, shall it be for ever said,
'The race of man was only made
'For sickness, sorrow, and the dust?'
Are not thy servants day by day
Sent to their graves, and turn'd to clay?
Lord, where's thy kindness to the just?

3 Hast thou not promis'd to thy Son
And all his seed, a heav'nly crown?
But flesh and sense indulge despair:
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That faith can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.

4 For ever blessed be the Lord!
Who gives his saints a long reward
For all their toil, reproach, and pain:
Let all below, and all above
Join to proclaim thy wondrous love,
And each repeat a loud Amen.

Text Information

• First Line: Think, mighty God, on feeble man
• Meter: As the 113th Psalm
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1790
• Scripture:
  Psalm 89:47-52
• Notes: Part last

Tune Information

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