Our God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home. - Isaac Watts

So, when a raging fever burns,
We shift from side to side by turns;
And 't is a poor relief we gain
To change the place, but keep the pain.

Lord, we confess our numerous faults, How great our guilt has been! Foolish and vain were all our thoughts, And all our lives were sin. 2 But O, my soul, for ever praise, For ever love his Name, Who turns thy feet from dangerous ways Of folly, sin, and shame. 3 'Tis not by works of righteousness Which our own hands have done; But we are sav'd by sovereign grace Abounding thro' his Son. 4 'Tis from the mercy of our God That all our hopes begin; 'Tis by the water and the blood Our souls are wash'd from sin. 5 'Tis thro' the purchase of his death, Who hung upon the tree,

Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
⁠For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
⁠For 'tis their nature too.

But, children, you should never let
⁠Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
⁠To tear each other's eyes.