Psalm 120 Poetry

Leave a comment
English Poetry, faith, Isaac watts, office politics

1 Thou God of love, Thou ever blest
Pity my suffering state;
When wilt Thou set my soul at rest
From lips that love deceit?

2 Hard lot of mine! My days are cast
Among the sons of strife,
Whose never ceasing brawlings waste
My golden hours of life.

3 O might I fly to change my place
How would I choose to dwell
In some wide lonesome wilderness,
And leave these gates of hell!

4 Peace is the blessing that I seek,
How lovely are its charms!
I am for peace; but when I speak,
They all declare for arms.

5 New passions still their souls engage,
And keep their malice strong:
What shall be done to curb thy rage,
O thou devouring tongue!

6 Should burning arrows smite thee thro’,
Strict justice would approve;
But I had rather spare my foe,
And melt his heart with love.

Meditation

Posted by

Child of God, Salt of the Earth

Please comment below

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s