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A poem I used in a sermon about the valley of dry bones.



A valley wide and spacious,
Filled with bones so dry
Bones with no life in them,
Lying beneath the searing sky.

No hope, no joy is in them
They lie there deaf and dumb.
But God says to the prophet
Prophesy to the wind to come.

Ezekiel calls to the Spirit
And behold a wind sweeps through.
A rattling of bones answering
Amazes that wise Jew.

Bone to bone attaches
And sinews wrap around
A mighty army stands there
On that astonished ground.

And so the mighty God
Brings life and strength about.
We too can know His quickening
Of that there is no doubt.

So embrace with joy
The Spirit’s quickening power.
Rise up a mighty army
Fit for the coming hour.

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