Isaac Watts · 491 of 724

Hymn 133

Let Pharisees of high esteem Their faith and zeal declare, All their religion is a dream, If love be wanting there.

Love suffers long with patient eye, Nor is provoked in haste; She lets the present injury die, And long forgets the past.

[Malice and rage, those fires of hell, She quenches with her tongue; Hopes and believes, and thinks no ill, Though she endure the wrong.]

[She nor desires nor seeks to know The scandals of the time; Nor looks with pride on those below, Nor envies those that climb.]

She lays her own advantage by To seek her neighbor's good; So God's own Son came down to die, And bought our lives with blood.

Love is the grace that keeps her power In all the realms above; There faith and hope are known no more, But saints for ever love.