MINE eyes and my desire Are ever to the Lord; I love to plead His promises, And rest upon His Word.
When shall the sovereign grace Of my forgiving God, Restore me from those dangerous ways My wandering feet have trod?
The tumult of my thoughts Doth but enlarge my woe; My spirit languishes: my heart Is desolate and low.
O keep my soul from death, Nor put my hope to shame; For I have placed my only trust In my Redeemer’s name.
With humble faith I wait To see Thy face again; Believing that Thy blood-bought saints Shall never trust in vain.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748