WHEN Isaac Watts was seven years old, he wrote a startling acrostic poem. The first letters of its five- and four-line verses spell out ‘ISAAC WATTS’.
I am a vile polluted lump of earth,
So I’ve continued ever since my birth,
Although Jehovah grace does daily give me,
As sure this monster Satan will deceive me,
Come therefore, Lord, from Satan’s
claws relieve me.
Wash me in thy blood, O Christ,
And grace divine impart;
Then search and try the
corners of my heart,
That I in all things may
be fit to do
Service to Thee, and
sing thy praises too.
Happily for posterity, little Isaac
