Smite and reprove my wandering way;
Their gentle words, like ointment shed,
Shall never bruise, but cheer, my head.
4When I behold them prest with grief
I'll cry to heaven for their relief;
And by my warm petitions prove
How much I prize their faithful love.
66. L. M. Watts.
The Pleasure of Public Worship. Ps. 84.
1How pleasant, how divinely fair,