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Title: Hymn 1:146 [Go, Worship At Immanuel's Feet]
Author: Isaac Watts [
More Titles by Watts]
Characters of Christ, borrowed from inanimate
things, in scripture.
Go, worship at Immanuel's feet,
See in his face what wonders meet;
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, his glory, or his grace.
[The whole creation can afford
But some faint shadows of my Lord:
Nature to make his beauties known
Must mingle colours not her own.]
[Is he compar'd to wine or bread?
Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed;
That flesh, that dying blood of thine,
Is bread of life, is heavenly wine.]
[Is he a tree? The world receives
Salvation from his healing leaves;
That righteous branch, that fruitful bough,
Is David's root and offspring too.]
[Is he a rose? Not Sharon yields
Such fragrancy in all her fields:
Or if the lily he assume,
The vallies bless the rich perfume.]
[Is he a vine? His heavenly root
Supplies the boughs with life and fruit:
O let a lasting union join
My soul the branch to Christ the vine:
[Is he the head? Each member lives,
And owns the vital powers he gives;
The saints below, and saints above,
Join'd by his Spirit and his love.]
[Is he a fountain? There I bathe,
And heal the plague of sin and death
These waters all my soul renew,
And cleanse my spotted garments too.]
[Is he a fire? he'll purge my dross,
But the true gold sustains no loss;
Like a refiner shall he sit,
And tread the refuse with his feet.]
[Is he a rock? How firm he proves!
The rock of ages never moves;
Yet the sweet streams that from him flow
Attend us all the desert thro'.]
[Is he a way? He leads to God,
The path is drawn in lines of blood;
There would I walk with hope and zeal,
Till I arrive at Sion's hill.]
[Is he a door? I'll enter in
Behold the pastures large and green,
A paradise divinely fair,
None but the sheep have freedom there.]
[Is he design'd a corner-stone,
For men to build their heaven upon?
I'll make him my foundation too,
Nor fear the plots of hell below.]
[Is he a temple? I adore
Th'indwelling majesty and power;
And still to this most holy place,
Whene'er I pray, I turn my face.]
[Is he a star? He breaks the night,
Piercing the shades with dawning light;
I know his glories from afar,
I know the bright, the morning-star.]
[Is he a sun? His beams are grace,
His course is joy, and righteousness;
Nations rejoice when he appears
To chase their clouds, and dry their tears.
O let me climb those higher skies,
Where storms and darkness never rise!
There he displays his powers abroad,
And shines, and reigns th'incarnate God.]
Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars,
Nor heaven his full resemblance bears;
His beauties we can never trace,
Till we behold him face to face.
[The end]
Isaac Watts's poem: Hymn 1:146 [go, Worship At Immanuel's Feet]
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