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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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Isaac Watts
Age: 74 †
Born: 1674
Born: July 17
Died: 1748
Died: November 25
Hymnwriter
Philosopher
Poet
Theologian
Writer
Southampton
Hampshire
Isaac Watts
Praise
Name
Land
Names
Redeemer
Every
Dwell
Arise
Creator
Tongue

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Do not hover always on the surface of things, nor take up suddenly with mere appearances but penetrate into the depth of matters, as far as your time and circumstances allow, especially in those things which relate to your profession.
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Was it for crimes that I had done He groaned upon the tree? Amazing pity! Grace unknown! And love beyond degree!
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Acquaint yourself with your own ignorance.
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Speak softly. It is far better to rule by love than fear.Speak softly. Let no harsh words mar the good we may do here.
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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 general observations are drawn from so many particulars as to become certain and indisputable, these are jewels of knowledge.
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Earth, thou great footstool of our God, who reigns on high thou fruitful source of all our raiment, life, and food our house, our parent, and our nurse.
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What bliss will fill the ransomed souls, when they in glory dwell, to see the sinner as he rolls, in quenchless flames of hell.
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Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.
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There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.
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When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
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Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
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thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.
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I write not for your farthing, but to try. How I your farthing writers, may outvie.
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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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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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Love is amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.
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Custom and authority are no sure evidence of truth.
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Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
Isaac Watts