As the ancient windmill stands holding out her blade-like hands. Watching for the clouds to form, waiting for the windy storm. When she moves with great delight and made useful through her flight. Spirit who enables me, so may I be filled with Thee. Thou the wind and I the mill, I am useless standing still. Without Thee my life is death, blow upon me with Thy breath. Thus enabled by Thy might to revolve in useful flight. Spirit who enables me, so may I be filled with Thee. As the windmill by the seas, ever moving with the breeze. Wind of God I look to Thee daily to enable me. Make me useful in Thy cause for Thy praise, not man's applause. Spirit who enables me, so may I be filled with Thee. Spirit who enables me, so may I be filled with Thee.