Lord, I have made Thy Word my choice,
My lasting heritage;
There shall my noblest powers rejoice,
My warmest thoughts engage.
I’ll read the histories of Thy love,
And keep Thy laws in sight,
While through the promises I rove,
With ever fresh delight.
'Tis a broad land of wealth unknown,
Where springs of life arise,
Seeds of immortal bliss are sown,
And hidden glory lies.
The best relief that mourners have,
It makes our sorrows blest;
Our fairest hope beyond the grave,
And our eternal rest.
—by Isaac Watts (1674-1748)