| We came to the water
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| Sinners all were we
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| For we’d heard a man could be reborn
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| And then he’d be set free
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| Oh I’ve never done hard time
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| But I’ve had a few
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| And some of the wrongs that I have done
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| Would make you shift in your Sunday pew
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| And I am oft' intoxicated
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| On sorrow and my shame
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| And guilt makes a right fine prison cell
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| When you’re afraid of your own name
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| We came to the stream of life
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| As clar as glass and as cold as ice
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| And my heart sank as I looked in
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| But I’d a pint of faith and I’d rolld my dice
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| On the water so sweet that was just ankle deep
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| But we had prisons to bury
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| So we rolled our clothes and braced for the cold
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| To leave all that we had to carry
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| And we dammed the water that frees the damned
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| And we dug the stones from the riverbed
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| In the stream of life we formed a coffin
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| And I’d be damned if that water didn’t cover my head
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| We drowned the young and old in that sea of grace
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| But we all rose the same
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| We splashed like children, we did, in that sea of grace
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| And we danced in the forest like flames
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| Grace was enough and grace is enough
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| And grace always will be
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| More than enough to change an old man young
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| And an ankle-deep stream to a sea
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| Grace can’t be bought and grace can’t be sold
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| Not for the wages of a thousand days
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| Grace is the gift of a King who longs
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| For His children to see they’re not slaves
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| And grace gets deeper the more you trust
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| That the King is good and the King is just
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| And that naked forgiveness is stronger than the grave
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| And sometimes grace takes clearing stones
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| With a weary heart and aching bones
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| To prove to that new child it was worth it all
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| Roll away the stones
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| Roll away the stones
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| Roll away the stones
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| And come alive |