If Thou wouldst deal with me,
How could my hands contend?
If Thou resist with might,
What heart could e’er withstand?
Shall he who’s molded say:
Why didst Thou thus make me?
Though Jacob strive and wrest,
Eventually he’ll see:
How could my hands contend?
If Thou resist with might,
What heart could e’er withstand?
Shall he who’s molded say:
Why didst Thou thus make me?
Though Jacob strive and wrest,
Eventually he’ll see:
Lord, can no righteousness,
Be found upon the earth?
The tambourine and lyre,
Have ceased to bring me mirth.
Yet in Thy dwelling place,
I saw the wicked’s end.
Thy counsel guides me still,
Thou leadest by Thy hand.
Be found upon the earth?
The tambourine and lyre,
Have ceased to bring me mirth.
Yet in Thy dwelling place,
I saw the wicked’s end.
Thy counsel guides me still,
Thou leadest by Thy hand.
The broken, contrite heart,
Is ne’er despised by Thee;
My many wicked sins
Have henceforth humbled me!
The sinner’s vile offense,
To God’s forgiveness wed,
Brings forth the builded work;
To Zion thus I’m led.
Is ne’er despised by Thee;
My many wicked sins
Have henceforth humbled me!
The sinner’s vile offense,
To God’s forgiveness wed,
Brings forth the builded work;
To Zion thus I’m led.