Death a Blessing to the Saints

by Isaac Watts

Do flesh and nature dread to die?
And timorous thoughts our minds enslave?
But grace can raise our hopes on high,
And quell the terrors of the grave.

What! Shall we run to gain the crown,
Yet grieve to think the goal so near?
Afraid to have our labours done,
And finish this important war?

Do we not dwell in clouds below,
And little know the good we love?
Why should we like this twilight so,
When ’tis all noon in worlds above?

There shall we see him face to face,
There shall we know the Great unknown,
And Jesus, with his glorious grace,
Shines in full light amidst the throne.

When we put off this fleshly load,
We’re from a thousand mischiefs free,
For ever present with our God,
Where we have long’d and wish’d to be.

No more shall pride or passion rise,
Or envy fret, or malice roar,
Or sorrow mourn with down-cast eyes,
And sin defile our souls no more.

‘Tis best, ’tis infinitely best,
To go where tempters cannot come,
Where saints and angels ever blest,
Dwell and enjoy their heavenly home.

O for a visit from my God,
To drive my fears of death away,
And help me thro’ this darksome road,
To realms of everlasting day!

Isaac Watts, The Works of the Rev. Isaac Watts, vol. 1 (Leeds; London: Edward Baines; William Baynes; Thomas Williams and Son; Thomas Hamilton; Josiah Conder, 1812), p. 627, LOGOS Edition.