What the writer fails to write
And what the painter cannot envision.
In all the splendor of the earth
None can compare with.
Like the air that we breath
We cannot see.
Yet we need.
You see
Something worth it never comes easy.
This is not quality on sale.
For he didn't sell out.
He could not bear the price
And became a living sacrifice.
Oh! How the pain
But yet he saw the gain.
Not for riches or gold
So my soul he could hold.
If a picture paints a thousand words
A thousand pictures cannot say.
My heart is overwhelmed by his love.
My mind is transformed in his wisdom.
For he touched with more than just hands.
And he sang more than a song.
It was more than him just dying
And greater than me just living.
He bought me from the slave trade
And took Egypt out of me.
When his mercy said no
And grace triumphed the judgment.
When they asked,
'What good can come from me?'
For the purpose was greater than the pain.
He looked with love, not for love.
He didn't make a way
He is the way.
So when words cannot speak
And the music fades away.
I will lift my eyes to the hills
Where my help comes from.
