Psalm 100
A plain translation. Praise to our Creator. Ye nations round the earth, rejoice Before the Lord, your sovereign King; Serve him with cheerful heart and voice, With all your tongues his glory sing. The Lord is God; 'tis he alone Doth life, and breath, and being give; We are his work, and not our own, The sheep that on his pastures live. Enter his gates with songs of joy, With praises to his courts repair; And make it your divine employ To pay your thanks and honors there. The Lord is good, the Lord is kind, Great is his grace, his mercy sure; And the whole race of man shall find His truth from age to age endure.
Isaac Watts’s other poems:
