Isaac Watts
Isaac Watts
Isaac Wattswas an English Christian minister, hymnwriter, theologian and logician. A prolific and popular hymn writer, his work was part of evangelization. He was recognized as the "Father of English Hymnody", credited with some 750 hymns. Many of his hymns remain in use today and have been translated into numerous languages...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth17 July 1674
lying water may
It was a saying of the ancients, "Truth lies in a well;" and to carry on this metaphor, we may justly say that logic does supply us with steps, whereby we may go down to reach the water.
grief sea weeping
For one drop calls another down, till we are drowned in seas of grief.
writing trying may
I write not for your farthing, but to try / How I your farthing writers, may outvie.
christian race chance
Lord, I ascribe it to thy grace,And not to chance as others do,That I was born of Christian race,And not a Heathen, or a Jew.
hands would-be satan
In works of labour or of skillI would be busy too:For Satan finds some mischief stillFor idle hands to do.
death repentance graves
There's no repentance in the grave.
world human-nature glory
Reason is the glory of human nature, and one of the chief eminences whereby we are raised above our fellow-creatures, the brutes, in this lower world.
ears reign sound
Salvation, O the joyful sound! 'Tis pleasure to our ears; A sov'reign balm for ev'ry wound, A cordial for our fears.
reading care taught
thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.
giving meditation mind
Academical disputation gives vigor and briskness to the mind thus exercised, and relieves the languor of private study and meditation.
heart thoughtful thinking
Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings
poor walks
Whene'er I take my walks abroad,How many poor I see!What shall I render to my GodFor all his gifts to me?
stars heaven soul
The stars, that in their courses roll, Have much instruction given; But Thy good Word informs my soul How I may climb to Heaven.
death dust dying
No, I'll repine at death no more, But with a cheerful gasp resign To the cold dungeon of the ground These dying, withering limbs of mine. Let worms devour my wasting flesh, And crumble all my bones to dust:-- My God shall raise my frame anew, At the revival of the just.