---

Isaac Watts - Hymn 65
Work rating: Low

The hope of heaven our support under trials on earth.

When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.

Should earth against my soul engage,
And hellish darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan`s rage,
And face a frowning world.

Let cares like a wild deluge come,
And storms of sorrow fall,
May I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heav`n, my all!

There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of heav`nly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.