If You did not my soul inflame,
If You did not fill lungs with breath,
If You did not my mind engage,
Sure, that would be my sorry death.
Without Your spirit, none can live,
E’en those who do not yet believe.
It’s by Your providence, I know,
There’s reason to rejoice, or grieve.
We cannot understand Your ways;
We grope about, sometimes in ruin.
Or graced, find better ways of life —
But death, the whys will then illumine.