Many, O LORD 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 mine head, and my heart hath failed me.