Then sings your soul

I am amazed at the beauty that touches your tounge[sic].
Then sings my soul my Savior God to thee;
You’re a good friend. I like being around you
how great thou art, how great thou art!
I’ll write a letter to recommend you if you ever need one.
Then sings my soul my Savior God to thee;
i am thankful for you and your creative thoughtfulness.
how great thou art, how great thou art!
Several times I have thought about how good you are to me

Then sings your soul, my Savior god to me;
how great thou art. . . how great thou art!

Holy Taint

Burnt from both fingertips to the heart,
Ruined by their Redeemer and
Scared by a Savior,
Yearning for the nail print
Ask and ye shall. . . .
Dangerous with passion,
Empowered with promise,
Striving to follow the forsaken fisher of men.

Can I love on my own?

I’m pretty sure with my humanistic means I can undo my hate,
Unwrap my angry passion slow enough not to spring,
But I’m wondering if I can love on my own.
Why should I love, if I am not your son?
Do you think that I owe you anything stranger?
Well, I don’t.
I owe a debt to my Savior and live in my death
For a cause that is greater than my passiveness.