Let others boast how strong they be
Nor death nor danger fear;
But we'll confess, O Lord, to thee
What feeble things we are

Fresh as the grass our bodies stand
And flourish bright and gay;
A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land
And fades the grass away

Our life contains a thousand springs
And dies if one be gone;
Strange, that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long!

But 'tis our God supports our frame
The God that built us first:
Salvation to th' Almighty name
That reared us from the dust

He spoke, and straight our hearts and brains
In all their motions rose;
"Let blood," said he, "flow round the veins,"
And round the vеins it flows

While we have brеath, or use our tongues
Our Maker we'll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs
Or they would breathe no more