Hymn 2:53 [Lord! What A Wretched Land Is This]

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Title:     Hymn 2:53 [Lord! What A Wretched Land Is This]
Author: Isaac Watts [More Titles by Watts]

The pilgrimage of the saints; or, Earth and heaven.

Lord! what a wretched land is this
That yields us no supply!
No cheering fruits no wholesome trees,
Nor streams of living joy!

But pricking thorns thro' all the ground
And mortal poisons grow,
And all the rivers that are found
With dangerous waters flow.

Yet the clear path to thine abode
Lies thro' this horrid land;
Lord! we would keep the heavenly road,
And run at thy command.

[Our souls shall tread the desert thro'
With undiverted feet;
And faith and flaming zeal subdue
The terrors that we meet.]

[A thousand savage beasts of prey
Around the forest roam;
But Judah's lion guards the way,
And guides the strangers home.]

[Long nights and darkness dwell below,
With scarce a twinkling ray;
But the bright world to which we go
Is everlasting day.]

[By glimmering hopes and gloomy fears
We trace the sacred road,
Thro' dismal deeps and dangerous snares
We make our way to God.]

Our journey is a thorny maze,
But we march upward still;
Forget these troubles of the ways,
And reach at Zion's hill.

[See the kind angels at the gates,
Inviting us to come;
There Jesus the fore-runner waits
To welcome travellers home.]

There on a green and flowery mount
Our weary souls shall sit,
And with transporting joys recount
The labours of our feet.

[No vain discourse shall fill our tongue,
Nor trifles vex our ear,
Infinite grace shall be our song,
And God rejoice to hear.]

Eternal glories to the King
That brought us safely thro';
Our tongues shall never cease to sing,
And endless praise renew.

[The end]
Isaac Watts's poem: Hymn 2:53 [Lord! What A Wretched Land Is This]

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