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There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.

Isaac Watts

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Isaac Watts
Age: 74 †
Born: 1674
Born: July 17
Died: 1748
Died: November 25
Hymnwriter
Philosopher
Poet
Theologian
Writer
Southampton
Hampshire
Isaac Watts
Pure
Banish
Land
Saints
Pleasure
Reign
Pain
Pleasures
Night
Immortal
Saint
Delight
Infinite
Excludes

More quotes by Isaac Watts

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Our God, our help in ages past,Our hope for years to come,Our shelter from the stormy blast,And our eternal home.
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A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun.
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Must I be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease, while others fought to win the prize and sailed through bloody seas?
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A hermit who has been shut up in his cell in a college has contracted a sort of mould and rust upon his soul.
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Do not expect to arrive at certainty in every subject which you pursue. There are a hundred things wherein we mortals. . . must be content with probability, where our best light and reasoning will reach no farther.
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And he that does one fault at first And lies to hide it, makes it two.
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I write not for your farthing, but to try. How I your farthing writers, may outvie.
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Disputation carries away the mind from that calm and sedate temper which is so necessary to contemplate truth.
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I would not change my blest estate for all the world calls good or great.
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What's amiss I'll strive to mend,And endure what can't be mended.
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How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!
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When a false argument puts on the appearance of a true one, then it is properly called a sophism or fallacy.
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Everyday is a birthday every moment of it is new to us we are born again, renewed for fresh work and endeavor.
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Salvation, O the joyful sound! 'Tis pleasure to our ears A sov'reign balm for ev'ry wound, A cordial for our fears.
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Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
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To prevent and suppress rising resentment is wise and glorious, is manly and divine.
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From all who dwell below the skiesLet the Creator's praise ariseLet the Redeemer's name be sungThrough every land, by every tongue.
Isaac Watts
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Preserve your conscience always soft and sensitive. If but one sin force its way into that tender part of the soul and dwell there, the road is paved for a thousand iniquities.
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There's no repentance in the grave.
Isaac Watts
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Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur and repine, To see the wicked placed on high, In pride and robes of honor shine. But oh, their end, their dreadful end, Thy sanctuary taught me so, On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand, And fiery billows roll below.
Isaac Watts