1. Now let our lips with holy fear
And mournful pleasure sing
The sufferings of our great High Priest,
The sorrows of our King.
He sinks in floods of deep distress;
How high the waters rise!
While to his heavenly Father's ear
He sends perpetual cries.
2. "Hear me, O Lord, and save thy Son,
Nor hide thy shining face;
Why should thy favorite look like one
Forsaken of thy grace?
"With rage they persecute the man
That groans beneath thy wound,
While for a sacrifice I pour
My life upon the ground.
3. "They tread my honor to the dust,
And laugh when I complain;
Their sharp insulting slanders add
Fresh anguish to my pain.
"All my reproaches known to thee,
The scandal and the shame;
Reproach has broke my bleeding heart,
And lies defiled my name.
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 >