Psalm 120 Poetry

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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.


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Child of God, Salt of the Earth

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