1 Grace rules below, and sits enthroned above,
How few the sparks of wrath! how slow they move,
And drop and die in boundless seas of love!
2 But me, vile wretch! should pitying love embrace
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blaze,
And flash and burn me through the boundless seas.
3 Yea, Lord, my guilt to such a vastness grown
Seems to confine my choice to wrath alone,
And calls Thy power to vindicate Thy throne.
4 Thine honor bids, "Avenge Thy injured name,"
Thy slighted loves a dreadful glory claim,
While my moist tears might but incense Thy flame.
5 Should heav’n grow black, almighty thunder roar,
And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more,
But own Thy justice, dying, and adore.
6 Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood
To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud,
Tinged in the vital stream of my Redeemer’s blood?
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12050
|Instances (1 - 1 of 1)||Title||First Line||Tune||Tune Key||Author||Meter||Scripture||Date||Subject||Source|
|The Cyber Hymnal #12050||The Humble Inquiry||Grace rules below, and sits enthroned above||YORKSHIRE||Isaac Watts||10.10.10.10.10.10||<cite>Horae Lyrica</cite> Book 1, 1706|