In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.
A friend who, to his other attainments adds those of scholar and a critic, suggests how interesting it would be to analyze the verses of Watts, for the purpose of noting how often he evidently thought in foreign languages, and especially the Latin, with which he was so familiar; and hence we have lines which, while to some readers they appear to be doggerel, are indeed illustrations that he was using words in their real etymological sense, and thus imparting to his verse a singular beauty; thus:
How decent and how wise,
How glorious to behold,
Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes
And rites adorned with gold.
Thus, again, of God:
He sits on no precarious throne,