You don’t need my songs
You see through my Sunday best
And You don’t need my works
To compliment Your righteousness
You don’t need my words
My poetry does not impress you, God
You don’t need my faith
You still move despite my doubt
And You don’t need my voice
The rocks and trees are crying out
You don’t need my love
That’s not what this is all about, Oh God

It’s hard to face this
But when I see Your face I see what grace is
It’s such a glorious disgrace
That You would empty Yourself to love me
You would empty Yourself
When You are the Author
Of all the good I’ve ever done
And all I offer
Is borrowed breath from borrowed lungs
But You still empty Yourself to love me
You still empty Yourself to love me

Without Your breath in my lungs
Without Your word on my tongue
Without Your voice speaking all things
Without Your blood in my heart
Without Your cross as my mark
Without Your fire in the offering
Without Your breath in my lungs
Without Your words on my tongue
Without Your voice I could not sing
Without Your blood in my heart
Without Your cross as my mark
Without Your love I am nothing