I'm tired of visits, modes and forms

I'm tired of visits, modes and forms

Author: Isaac Watts
Published in 29 hymnals

Representative Text

1 I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms,
And flatteries paid to fellow worms
Their convesation 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 evey vein my passions move,
The captives of his tongue;
In midnight shades, on frosty ground,
I cold attend the pleasing sound,
Nor should I feel December ocld, nor
think the darkness lonb.

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 passion 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 pow'rs 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 brest,
Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with
more intense desire.

7 Kindly he opens me his ear,
And bids me pour my sorrows there,
And tell him all my pains:
Thus while I ease my burden'd heart,
In ev'ry woe he bears a part,
His armes 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 wanto love:
My soul disdains that little snare
The tangles of Amira's harp
Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands,
nor can my heart remove.

Source: A Selection of Psalms and Hymns: done under the appointment of the Philadelphian Association #CCXCVIII

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
Source: Watt's Lyric Poems
Copyright: Public Domain



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