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 or tongues,
Our Maker we'll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs,
Or they would breath no more.]