| I tried Lord
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| I tried Lord
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| I tried hard to be Your good little boy
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| Chin up, head high
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| All zeal and no joy
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| Thinking all my good deeds could please Jesus
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| Boy, was I wrong
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| Though I knew the right songs, all my cymbals and gongs played the melodies
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| wrong
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| And it wasn’t long 'til I saw my disease
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| A life spent wanting to please
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| On hands and knees
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| To make right, to appease
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| God help me please
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| This can’t be Christianity, it can’t be
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| The whole thing’s like insanity
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| Where’s the rest of eternal security?
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| Where’s the hope of a God big enough to cope with all my hang-ups and
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| insecurities?
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| Certainly this isn’t breathing
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| My chest burning and heaving
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| It’s like my pulse is ceasing
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| Like my heart quits beating
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| Yet this I recall to mind and therefore I have hope:
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| You died, Lord
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| You died, Lord
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| Assuredly, like the coming of the dawn, the Father’s love song goes on
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| Drowning out my bitter songs
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| And breaking through walls and barriers
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| Christ swoops in, removes sin, picks up His bride and carries her
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| So I can sing in agreement with the King this thing:
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| There’s only one thing that pleases the Father
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| The God-man on the tree in the midst of the scoffers
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| Now I finally see that Christ is what Christ offers
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| And I’m finally free in the love of the Father |