|73 (1)||Psalm 73 Version 1||LM|
|LORD, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
Ever to murmur, mourn and pine,
Envying those who, placed on high,
Now in their pride and honour shine.
|2||But in the house of God, their end
Dawned on my mind and stirred my shame;
In slippery places how they stand!
How brief their fortunes and their fame!
|3||Their vaunted joys, how fast they flee,
Just as a dream when one awakes;
All their best bliss and harmony,
Are but a prelude to their plagues.
|4||What if they boast how high they rise?
I’ll never envy them again,
For scornful lips and haughty eyes
Face everlasting loss and pain.
|5||Such mighty grace has made me Thine,
Washed in my Saviour’s precious blood;
Lord, ’tis enough that Thou art mine,
My life, my portion and my God!
|Isaac Watts, 1674-1748|