Many, O Jehovah my God, are the wonderful works which thou hast done, And thy thoughts which are to us-ward: They cannot be set in order unto thee; If I would declare and speak of them, They are more than can be numbered.
Thy dead shall live; my dead bodies shall arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust; for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast forth the dead.
For innumerable evils have compassed me about; Mine iniquities have overtaken me, so that I am not able to look up; They are more than the hairs of my head; And my heart hath failed me.