122    148th     Isaac Watts
The Offices of Christ Glorious. Phil. 2. 9; Col. 3. 11

1 Join all the glorious names
  Of wisdom, love, and power,
  That ever mortals knew,
  That angels ever bore;
  All are too mean to speak his worth,
  Too mean to set my Saviour forth.

2 But O what gentle terms
  What condescending ways,
  Does our Redeemer use
  To teach his heavenly grace!
  My eyes with joy and wonder see
  What forms of love he bears for me.

3 [Arrayed in mortal flesh,
  He like an angel stands,
  And holds the promises
  And pardons in his hands;
  Commissioned from his Father’s throne,
  To make his grace to mortals known.]

4 [Great Prophet of my God,
  My tongue would bless thy name;
  By thee the joyful news
  Of our salvation came;
  The joyful news of sins forgiven,
  Of hell subdued, and peace with heaven.]

5 [Be thou my Counsellor,
  My Pattern, and my Guide;
  And through this desert land,
  Still keep me near thy side;
  O let my feet ne’er run astray,
  Nor rove, nor seek the crooked way!]

6 [I love my Shepherd’s voice;
  His watchful eyes shall keep
  My wandering soul among
  The thousands of his sheep;
  He feeds his flock, he calls their names;
  His bosom bears the tender lambs.]

7 [To this dear Surety’s hand
  Will I commit my cause;
  He answers and fulfils
  His Father’s broken laws.
  Behold my soul at freedom set;
  My Surety paid the dreadful debt.]

8 [Jesus, my great High Priest,
  Offered his blood and died;
  My guilty conscience seeks
  No sacrifice beside.
  His powerful blood did once atone,
  And now it pleads before the throne.]

9 [My Advocate appears
  For my defence on high;
  The Father bows his ears,
  And lays his thunder by.
  Not all that hell or sin can say,
  Shall turn his heart, his love away.]

10 [My dear, almighty Lord,
  My Conqueror and my King,
  Thy sceptre and thy sword,
  Thy reigning grace I sing;
  Thine is the power; behold, I sit,
  In willing bonds, beneath thy feet.]

11 [Now let my soul arise,
  And tread the tempter down!
  My Captain leads me forth
  To conquest and a crown.
  A feeble saint shall win the day,
  Though death and hell obstruct the way.]

12 Should all the hosts of death,
  And powers of hell unknown,
  Put their most dreadful forms
  Of rage and mischief on,
  I shall be safe, for Christ displays
  Superior power and guardian grace.