473    L.M.     Isaac Watts
The Sinner’s Portion, and Saint’s hope. Ps. 17. 9-15

1 Lord, I am thine, but thou wilt prove
  My faith, my patience, and my love;
  They are the sword, the hand is thine.

2 Their hope and portion lie below;
  ’Tis all the happiness they know;
  ’Tis all they seek; they take their shares
  And leave the rest among their heirs.

3 What sinners value I resign;
  Lord, ’tis enough that thou art mine.
  I shall behold thy blissful face,
  And stand complete in righteousness.

4 This life’s a dream, an empty show,
  But the bright world to which I go,
  Has joys substantial and sincere;
  When shall I wake and find me there?

5 O glorious hour! O blest abode!
  I shall be near, and like my God!
  And flesh and sin no more control
  The sacred pleasures of my soul.

6 My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
  Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound;
  Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
  And in my Saviour’s image rise.