Isaac Watts · 572 of 724

Hymn 64

Happy the church, thou sacred place, The seat of thy Creator's grace; Thine holy courts are his abode, Thou earthly palace of our God!

Thy walls are strength, and at thy gates A guard of heav'nly warriors waits; Nor shall thy deep foundations move, Fixed on his counsels and his love.

Thy foes in vain designs engage, Against his throne in vain they rage; Like rising waves, with angry roar, That dash and die upon the shore.

Then let our souls in Zion dwell, Nor fear the wrath of Rome and hell; His arms embrace this happy ground, Like brazen bulwarks built around.

God is our shield, and God our sun; Swift as the fleeting moments run, On us he sheds new beams of grace, And we reflect his brightest praise.