1. Death, like an overflowing stream, Sweeps us away; our life’s a dream, An empty tale, a morning flow’r, Cut down and withered in an hour. 2. Our age to sev’nty years is set; How short the time! How frail the state! And if to eighty we arrive, We’d rather sigh and groan than live. 3. Teach us, Oh Lord, how frail is man; And kindly lengthen out the span, Till a wise care of piety Fit us to die and dwell with Thee.
Isaac Watts was the son of a schoolmaster, and was born in Southampton, July 17, 1674. He is said to have shown remarkable precocity in childhood, beginning the study of Latin, in his fourth year, and writing respectable verses at the age of seven. At the age of sixteen, he went to London to study in the Academy of the Rev. Thomas Rowe, an Independent minister. In 1698, he became assistant minister of the Independent Church, Berry St., London. In 1702, he became pastor. In 1712, he accepted an invitation to visit Sir Thomas Abney, at his residence of Abney Park, and at Sir Thomas' pressing request, made it his home for the remainder of his life. It was a residence most favourable for his health, and for the prosecution of his literary… Go to person page >