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.]