1 Not all the outward Forms on Earth,
Nor Rites that God has giv'n,
Nor Will of Man, nor Blood, nor Birth,
Can raise a Soul to Heav'n.

2 The Sove'reign Will of God alone
Creates us Heirs of Grace;
Born in the Image of his Son,
A new peculiar Race.

3 The Spirit like some heav'nly Wind,
Blows on the Sons of Flesh,
New-models all the carnal Mind,
And forms the Man afresh.

4 Our quicken'd Souls awake, and rise,
From the long Sleep of Death;
On heav'nly Things we fix our Eyes,
And Praise employs our Breath.