The night is old and fading out
And every word
Marking Your footsteps
Is brushed upon a soft canvas
And though every line
Tracing the work of your pierced hands
Has been followed
My heart pulls against my pride
As if I
Could wear out
Your precious name
By letting my lips sing
Of your Grace
Again and again and again.
And every word
Marking Your footsteps
Is brushed upon a soft canvas
And though every line
Tracing the work of your pierced hands
Has been followed
My heart pulls against my pride
As if I
Could wear out
Your precious name
By letting my lips sing
Of your Grace
Again and again and again.
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