Psalm 17:1 [Arise, My Gracious God] by Isaac Watts

Portion of saints and sinners;
or, Hope and despair in death.

Arise, my gracious God,
And make the wicked flee;
They are but thy chastising rod
To drive thy saints to thee.

Behold the sinner dies,
His haughty words are vain;
Here in this life his pleasure lies,
And all beyond is pain.

Then let his pride advance,
And boast of all his store:
The Lord is my inheritance,
My soul can wish no more.

I shall behold the face
Of my forgiving God,
And stand complete in righteousness,
Wash’d in my Saviour’s blood.

There’s a new heaven begun,
When I awake from death,
Drest in the likeness of thy Son,
And draw immortal breath.

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