THE volume of my Fatherís grace
   Does all my thirst assuage;
Here I behold my Saviourís face
    In almost every page.
2  This is the field where hidden lies
    The pearl of price unknown;
That merchant is divinely wise
    Who makes the pearl his own.
3  Here consecrated water flows
    To purge my love of sin;
Here the fair tree of knowledge grows:
    No danger dwells therein.
4  Here is the judge that ends all strife,
    Where wit and reason fail;
My guide to everlasting life
    Through all this earthly vale.
5  O may Thy counsels, mighty God,
    My roving feet command,
Nor I forsake the happy road
    That leads to Thy right hand.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748