With overdrawn strength, by grace we stand,
Though feeble legs belie, our hope is poorly put in legs,
But better in a cross that marks,
The place of greatest comfort and distress,
That He who gives the wind to strength,
Would breathe one last, yet now!
More fully strength is named in Him, our strength.

O ancient ground of old,
You're sturdier than I can know,
I give you myself to mould,
I trust my faith You'll grow.