Isaac Watts Poems

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The true improvement of life.

Ps. 90:12.

Ane is this life prolonged to me?
Are days and seasons giv'n?
O let me, then, prepare to be
A fitter heir of heav'n.

In vain these moments shall not pass,
These golden hours be gone:
Lord, I accept thine offered grace,
I bow before thy throne.

Now cleanse my soul from every sin
By my Redeemer's blood;
Now let my flesh and soul begin
The honors of my God.

Let me no more my soul beguile
With sin's deceitful toys;
Let cheerful hope, increasing still,
Approach to heav'nly joys.

My thankful lips shall loud proclaim
The wonders of thy praise,
And spread the savor of thy name
Where'er I spend my days.

On earth let my example shine,
And when I leave this state,
May heav'n receive this soul of mine
To bliss supremely great.

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