HOW blest are we if God the Lord No more imputes our sin, But washed in the Redeemer’s blood, Our garments are made clean.
Happy beyond description, we Whose debts are thus discharged; Set from our guilt and bondage free, We feel our souls enlarged.
While inward guilt remained suppressed No comfort could we find, Unease lay burning in the breast And troubles plagued the mind.
Then we confessed our hidden thoughts, Those secret sins revealed; Thy pardoning grace forgave our faults, And grace our pardon sealed.
How shall we dare delay to pray, When like a raging flood, Temptations rise to take away Our hold from our dear Lord?
Our hiding-place and peace Thou art, Our strength in Satan’s hour, The guardian of the faltering heart, And source of keeping power.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748‡