Words: Isaac Watts
Note: there is also a Long Metre version on this page
Portion of saints and sinners.
1 Arise, my gracious God, And make the wicked flee; They are but thy chastising rod, To drive thy saints to thee.
2 Behold, the sinner dies, His haughty words are vain; Here in this life his pleasure lies, And all beyond is pain.
3 Then let his pride advance, And boast of all his store; The Lord is my inheritance, My soul can wish no more.
4 I shall behold the face Of my forgiving God; And stand complete in righteousness, Washed ill my Savior's blood.
5 There's a new heav'n begun, When I awake from death, Dressed in the likeness of thy Son, And draw immortal breath.
The sinner's portion and saint's hope.
1 I am thine; but thou wilt prove My faith, my patience, and my love: When men of spite against me join, They are the sword, the hand is thine.
2 Their hope and portion lies below: 'Tis all the happiness they know, 'Tis all they seek; they take their shares, And leave the rest among their heirs.
3 What sinners value I resign; Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine: I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness.
4 This life's a dream, an empty show; But the bright world to which I go. Hath joys substantial and sincere: When shall I wake and find me there ?
5 O glorious hour! O blessed abode! I shall be near and like my God! And flesh and sin no more control The sacred pleasures of the soul.
6 My flesh shall slumber in the ground Till the last trumpet's joyful sound; Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Savior's image rise.