Related:

• Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 63...
• Fly, like a youthful hart or roe, Over the hills where spices grow.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book i, Hymn 79...
• And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book i, Hymn 88...
• The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours.
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 63...
• Strange that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long!
  -- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) -- Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii, Hymn 19...
• There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reig
  Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain....
• So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by tu
  And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain....
• Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measured by my soul
  The mind 's the standard of the man....
• Whene'er I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see!
  What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me?...