Shall they live, oh son of calling,
These dry bones of dead and fallen?
Shall they see another day?
Shall they breathe and hope and pray?
Shall faith triumph over sight?
Shall darkness bow to burning light?
Sovereign Master, it is Thy will,
It always was and it is still;
Thou that called me by my name,
Before Thou knit my inner frame.
Thou that painted earth and sky,
Thine are the keys to death and life.
My breath within thee, prophesy!
Call these dry bones into life!
Prophesy to earthly end,
That heaven says to stand again.
Who can sway My mighty hand?
And what can taint My Sovreign plan?
As faith declared so faith did knit,
First barren frame then muscled skin.
Faith can build the perfect plan,
But faith alone can’t make it stand.
Faith transforms the hopeless dead,
When Faith cries out to Spirit’s breath.
O breath that fired burning tree,
O breath that parted raging sea,
O breath that cools the day to night,
O breath that gives the birds their flight,
O breath that seeks to only give,
Breathe once again that dust might live.
That Ancient Power became unleashed,
So gentle yet so wild and free.
An army full of hope and fight,
Came raised to life in broad daylight!
By man’s faith in Spirit’s breath,
There comes Life to all that’s dead.
O Spirit of the Great I Am,
How deep Thy love for mortal man!
Perfector of all perfect plans,
King of Heaven in heart of man,
O Healer of all hurt and pain,
Pray breathe Thy Life into my veins!
– Melissa Domingo
12 April, 2017
“Ezekiel 37:1-14”