Laden with guilt and full of fears,/
I fly to Thee, my Lord,/
And not a glimpse of hope appears,/
But in Thy written Word/
The volumes of my Father’s grace/
Does all my griefs assuage/
Here I behold my Savior’s face/
In every page./
This is the field where, hidden, lies/
The pearl of price unknown/
That merchant is divinely wise/
Who makes the pearl his own/
Here consecrated water flows/
To quench my thirst of sin/
Here the fair tree of knowledge grows,/
No danger dwells within./
This is the judge that ends the strife,/
Where wit and reason fail/
My guide to everlasting life/
Through all this gloomy vale/
Oh may Thy counsels, mighty God,/
My roving feet command,/
Nor I forsake the happy road/
That leads to Thy right hand.
~Isaac Watts
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