I put my hope in You,
I lay my life in palm of your hand,
I'm constantly drawn to You, King
In ways I cannot comprehend.
It's the Creator calling the created,
The Maker beckoning the made,
The bride finding what she's always waited for,
When we find ourselves that day.
It's no secret that we don't belong here,
Those set apart by the grace of You,
And we look for the day when we go to a place,
Where the old becomes brand new.
In You, where the hungry feast at the table;
The blind frozen by colors in view;
The lame will dance, They'll dance for they are able;
And the weary find rest,
Oh the weary find rest, in You