The ashes seem to roll and clump together,
Skidding into mounds and skating into rounded bobbles in the dust,
From the dust again comes beauty,
And a new mind is given,
The image reprinted,
Free from chains to live in chains,
Chains that warm and pull out of danger,
Chains that bend bones into their right place,
Chains that jingles like bells and guide the hands to craft the admirable,
How good are chains like these?
To clothe the dust in righteousness undeserved,
And hold us close to the guiding shepherd,
His back strong and steadfast,
His staff unwavering and kind,
And His voice like the charming wind.