I'm tired of visits, modes and forms

I'm tired of visits, modes and forms

Author: Isaac Watts
Tune: CONVERSE
Published in 29 hymnals

Representative Text

1 I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms,
And flatteries paid to fellow-worms
Their conversation cloys;
Their vain amouurs, and empty stuff:
But I can ne'er enjoy enough
Of thy blest company my Lord,
Thou life of all my joys.

2 When he begins to tell his love,
Through ev'ry vein my passions move,
The captives of his tongue;
In midnight shades, on frosty ground,
I could attend the pleasing sound,
Nor should I feel December cold,
Nor think the darkness long.

3 There, while I hear my Saviour God,
Count o'er the sins (a heavy load)
He bore upon the tree,
Inward I blush with secret shame,
And weep, and love, and bless the name
That knew not guilt nor grief his own,
But bare it all for me.

4 Next he describes the thorns he wore,
And talks his bloody passions o'er,
Till I am drown'd in tears;
Yet with the sympathetic smart,
There's a strange joy beats round my heart,
The cursed tree has blessings in't,
My sweetest balm it bears.

5 I hear the glorious sufferer tell,
How on his cross he vanquish'd hell,
And all the powers beneath:
Transported and inspir'd my tongue,
Attempts his triumphs in a song;
How has the serpent lost his sting,
And where's thy victory death?

6 But when he shews his hands and heart,
With those dear prints of dying smart,
He sets my soul on fire:
Nor the beloved John could rest
With more delight upon that breast,
Nor Thomas pry into those wounds
With more intense desire.

7 Kindly he opens me his ear,
And bids me pour my sorrow there,
And tell him all my pains:
Thus, while I ease my burthen'd heart,
In ev'ry woe he bears a part,
His arms embrace me, and his hand
My drooping head sustains.

8 Fly from my thoughts, all human things,
And sporting swains, and fighting kings,
And tales of wanton love:
My soul disdains that little snare
The tangles of Amira's hair;
Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands;
Nor can my heart remove.


Source: A Collection of Hymns, selected from sundry poets: together with a number of new poems, never before published #X

Author: Isaac Watts

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 >

Text Information

First Line: I'm tired of visits, modes and forms
Author: Isaac Watts
Meter: 8.8.6.8.8.8.6
Source: Watt's Lyric Poems
Copyright: Public Domain

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The Shenandoah Harmony #15

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