A Hymn by Isaac Watts

Keep silence all created things,
And wait your Maker’s nod;
My soul stands trembling while she sings
The honours of her God.

Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown,
Hang on his firm decree;
He sits on no precarious throne,
Nor borrows leave TO BE.

Chained to his throne a volume lies,
With all the fates of men,
With every angel’s form and size,
Drawn by the eternal pen.

His providence unfolds the book,
And makes his counsels shine;
Each opening leaf, and every stroke,
Fulfils some deep design.

Here he exalts neglected worms
To sceptres and a crown;
And there the following page he turns,
And treads the monarch down.

Not Gabriel asks the reason why,
Nor God the reason gives;
Nor dares the favourite angel pry
Between the folded leaves.

My God, I would not long to see
My fate with curious eyes;
What gloomy lines are writ for me,
Or what bright scenes may rise.

In thy fair book of life and grace,
O may I find my name
Recorded in some humble place,
Beneath my Lord the Lamb.

This beautiful hymn by Watts sets forth both the glory of God and the response of a sinner to beholding that glory with a Spiritual eye. He knows God has determined all things which will befall him, but he does not want to know them. The important thing for him, is that his name is recorded in the Lamb's book of life. Those names there were written before the foundation of the world. They are the names of those chosen in Christ Jesus and given to him in Eternal Vital Union. The poor, trembling child of grace knows he cannot merit anything from God, cannot merit a place in that book. He may have tried and tried for years to do good, be good and stay good, but he has found the work of his hands to be insufficient for the eternal things of Jehovah. He cannot raise himself up. It must have been done for him and to him and in spite of him and his native, Adamic rebellion against the most high.

Think on these things.

Waldensis
An Inhabitant of the Valley of Achor