Thursday, September 1, 2011

Holes

I'm looking forward, holding onto the dreams that make me sing.
I get so caught up in the harsh stings of opposition.
I believe, I believe, I believe.
My hands, they are not scarred...
And my hands, they are not bruised....
But your hands, those holes in your hands, the bruises....
They are the strength that carries me.

All I am God is a broken mess.
Full of hate and selfishness.
But your love is more than lavishing.
It's more than a song we sing....

I believe, I believe, I believe.
My hands, they are not scarred...
And my hands, they are not bruised....
But your hands, those holes in your hands, the bruises...
They are the strength that carries me.

I could gaze upon the ugliest mirrors, and still see the beauty of you.
Every day I need your grace, if only to see your face.
Moving through me, living in me, Jesus, replace me.

I believe, I believe, I believe.
My hands, they are not scarred...
And my hands, they are not bruised....
But your hands, those holes in your hands, the bruises...
They are the strength that carries me.


You are the only thing I need.

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