Theo Wrigt on Clubhouse

Bio

Let others boast how strong they be,
Nor death nor danger fear.
But we’ll confess O lord to thee,
What feeble things we are.

Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay.
A blasting wind sweeps over the land,
And fades the grass away.

Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone.
Strange that a harp of thousand strings should keep in tune so long.

But it’s our God supports our frame,
The God who built us first.
Salvation to the Almighty Name,
That reared us from the dust.

He spoke and straight our hearts and brains in all their motions rose.
Let blood, said He, flow round the veins, And round the veins it flows.

While we have breath to use our tongues, our Maker we’ll adore.
His spirit moves our heaving lungs, or they would breathe no more.