Words: Isaac Watts
God loves the righteous and hates the wicked.
1 My refuge is the God of love; Why do my foes insult and cry, "Fly like a tim'rous, trembling dove, To distant woods or mountains fly?"
2 If government be all destroyed, (That firm foundation of our peace,) And violence make justice void, Where shall the righteous seek redress?
3 The Lord in heav'n has fixed his throne, His eye surveys the world below: To him all mortal things are known, His eyelids search our spirits through.
4 If he afflicts his saints so far, To prove their love and try their grace, What may the bold transgressors fear? His very soul abhors their ways.
5 On impious wretches he shall rain Tempests of brimstone, fire, and death; Such as he kindled on the plain Of Sodom, with his angry breath.
6 The righteous Lord loves righteous souls, Whose thoughts and actions are sincere; And with a gracious eye beholds The men that his own image bear.