The Spirit is sent down to breathe On such dry bones as we. 6 Rais'd from the dead we live anew; And justify'd by grace We shall appear in glory too,… - Isaac Watts

Tis true my form is something odd
But blaming me is blaming God
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you.

If I could reach from pole to pole
Or grasp the ocean with a span
I would be measured by the soul
The mind's the standard of the man.

Lord, we confess our numerous faults, How great our guilt has been! Foolish and vain were all our thoughts, And all our lives were sin. 2 But O, my soul, for ever praise, For ever love his Name, Who turns thy feet from dangerous ways Of folly, sin, and shame. 3 'Tis not by works of righteousness Which our own hands have done; But we are sav'd by sovereign grace Abounding thro' his Son. 4 'Tis from the mercy of our God That all our hopes begin; 'Tis by the water and the blood Our souls are wash'd from sin. 5 'Tis thro' the purchase of his death, Who hung upon the tree,

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.