They don’t write ’em like they used to

Any song that begins with the line “Blessed is the man whose bowels move” is going to struggle to be a classic. However, once my somewhat childish first impression of this hymn eased enough for me to read further I found it quite a poignant piece. See what you think.

Blest is the man whose bowels move
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow saints endure.

His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of general grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels, too.

His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.

Or if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiv’n;
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to Heav’n.

Isaac Watts 1719

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