Isaac Watts · 148 of 724

Psalm 69 Part 2

Now let our lips with holy fear And mournful pleasure sing The suff'rings of our great High Priest, The sorrows of our King.

He sinks in floods of deep distress; How high the waters rise! While to his heav'nly Father's ear He sends perpetual cries.

"Hear me, O Lord, and save thy Son, Nor hide thy shining face; Why should thy fav'rite look like one Forsaken of thy grace?

"With rage they persecute the man That groans beneath thy wound, While for a sacrifice I pour My life upon the ground.

"They tread my honor to the dust, And laugh when I complain; Their sharp insulting slanders add Fresh anguish to my pain.

"All my reproach is known to thee, The scandal and the shame; Reproach has broke my bleeding heart, And lies defiled my name.

"I looked for pity, but in vain; My kindred are my grief: I ask my friends for comfort round, But meet with no relief.

"With vinegar they mock my thirst, They give me gall for food; And sporting with my dying groans, They triumph in my blood.

"Shine into my distressed soul, Let thy compassions save; And though my flesh sink down to death, Redeem it from the grave.

"I shall arise to praise thy name, Shall reign in worlds unknown; And thy salvation, O my God, Shall seat me on thy throne."