| Oh, God, I-I can’t believe
|
| All the places that I’ve been and all of those I’ve come to meet
|
| Blessings of faith when I have only a mustard seed
|
| For every hardship in my life
|
| I’ll hold your name and I’ll do just fine
|
| All praise are yours and none are mine
|
| Instruments played by hands, which cannot read or recollect one solitary note
|
| or line
|
| Yet play, in perfect harmony
|
| God whispers into some men’s ears
|
| Well he screams into mine
|
| Speaking, endlessly, all my hopes and fears
|
| Nay, simply, I’ll reply
|
| Blessing’s so sweet and divine
|
| None of which I do deserve
|
| For only a humble servant, am I
|
| Lowly, I’ll wash your feet
|
| With the tears I’ve cried
|
| Each joy in my life and each breath in my lungs, attests to your overwhelming
|
| grace
|
| Show us your love
|
| You see my tattered shoes, my broken spirit
|
| Unequipped to finish the race I could have never won
|
| So you snatched me up into your strong arms
|
| And over your shoulders; |
| I was slung
|
| Lord, you’ve given me the tools to live, as your own (Ugh)
|
| Talent, drive, and the willingness to run
|
| All praise are yours and none are mine
|
| Blessing’s so sweet and divine
|
| None of which I do deserve
|
| For only a humble servant, am I
|
| Hope my humility can outlast my pride |