Words: Isaac Watts
For the Lord's Day morning. 1 Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear My voice ascending high; To thee will I direct my prayer, To thee lift up mine eye; 2 Up to the hills where Christ is gone To plead for all his saints, Presenting at his Father's throne Our songs and our complaints. 3 Thou art a God, before whose sight The wicked shall not stand; Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight, Nor dwell at thy right hand. 4 But to thy house will I resort, To taste thy mercies there; I will frequent thine holy court, And worship in thy fear. 5 O may thy Spirit guide my feet In ways of righteousness! Make ev'ry path of' duty straight, And plain before my face. PAUSE. 6 My watchful enemies combine To tempt my feet astray; They flatter, with a base design To make my soul their prey. 7 Lord, crush the serpent in the dust, And all his plots destroy; While those that in thy mercy trust, For ever shout for joy. 8 The men that love and fear thy name Shall see their hopes fulfilled; The mighty God will compass them With favor as a shield.