| Be Thou exalted over my reputation
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| 'Cause applause is a poor form of soul medication
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| And I’ve tried it for years but my symptoms remain
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| Still fretting the day that they’ll misplace my name
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| Still selling my soul for American fame
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| Treating the promotion of Jesus like a well oiled machine
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| Advancing His kingdom just to snag some acclaim
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| Now, I’m both comforted and haunted that it isn’t just me though
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| I see a nation of people needing to feed their own egos
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| Parading status like steeples
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| Do we not know it’s evil to love ourselves
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| More than both God and His people?
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| But see, here’s where You turn this poem on it’s head
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| 'Cause the greatest among us came as servant instead
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| And You humbled Yourself to the point of Your death
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| Apparently love for the Father’s glory runs red
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| So friends, will we point to the Son till our own flames grow dim?
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| Will our bright lights become merely night-lights near Him?
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| Words echo once, let them echo again
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| Be Thou exalted over my reputation |