Dry Bones
Billy Otto
You sat me down in the valley
My eyes beheld a barren waste, it does not live
Wind, oh, quicken this
Wind, instilling birth again today
I see a great battalion as they stand upon their feet
The graves have opened up, oh, breathe
Sing, can these bones sing?
Son of man, can these bones live?
Son of man, can they sing?
I see a great battalion as they stand upon their feet
The graves have opened up, oh, breathe