1 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.
2 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.
3 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.
4 But 'tis our God supports our frame,
The God that built us first;
Salvation to th' Almighty Name,
That rear'd us from the dust.
5 [He spoke, and straight our hearts and brains
In all their motions rose;
|Let blood, (said he) flow round the veins,|
And round the veins it flows.
6 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we'll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs
Or they would breathe no more.]