BLEST is the church, where God the Lord Has fixed His gracious throne; Where He reveals His heavenly Word, To those He calls His own.
His eye, with infinite survey Beholds the sons of men; He formed us all of equal clay, And knows our every sin.
No king is rescued by the force Of armies, from the grave; Nor power nor swiftness of a horse Can the best rider save.
Vain is the strength of beasts or men To hope for safety thence; Repentant souls alone obtain A certain, sure defence.
Lord, let our hearts in Thee rejoice, And bless us from Thy throne, For we have made Thy Word our choice, And trust Thy grace alone.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748