Songs
Songs and lyrics
The Rocks Will
Let my soul sing Your praise
Let it cry out until
Glory floods to Your gates
It pours over and spills
At the foot of Your throne
In the flood I will kneel
If I don’t praise You, the rocks will
CHO
I’ll cry out
If not them, then me
I’ll sing loud
Hail the death-defying King
Praises rise and fill
Flood these halls and walls until
Worship shakes the gates of Hell
If not them, then me.
If I don’t praise You, the rocks will.
Let my life wear Your blood
Let it mark me until
Praises rain in this place
Til the worship floods fill
Bid the waters rush in
In the rivers I’ll kneel
If I don’t praise You, the rocks will.
Writers:
Gary Chapman, Nic Ford
The Hand
I won’t fear the dark or what I can’t control.
I know there ain’t a midnight, that’s night enough to shake my soul.
I know it ain’t me workin’. Ain’t me that’s brave or bold.
Because I hold the Hand. The Hand that has a hole.
CHO
It’s tough from all the workin’, but soft enough to hold.
It’s gentle from the healin’, all the makin’ new from old.
It’s tender from the teaching’, turnin’ iron hearts to gold.
It’s the only Hand that saves, the Hand that has a hole.
I don’t need the world to hear me, don’t need to be believed.
The scorn of man won’t slay me, the applause of man won’t please.
There’s a calm inside my storm, unimaginable peace.
Because I hold the hand, I hold the Hand that bleeds.
Writers:
Gary Chapman, Nic Ford
Holding On to You
Sense inside the night. Light when days are few. Breath upon my death. It’s holding onto You. You’re the joy inside the tear. It’s steady. Ever new. The only way I go, is holding onto You.
CHO
Nothing else to wonder. Nowhere left to go. I’ve got nothing left worth chasing. I’ve got nothing more to know. Not a siren that’s still singing could sell me something new. All that’s left of me, is holding onto You.
Strength inside my hands. Guide for the way through. The only way I war, is holding onto You. Faithful to my lost. Truth to my untrue. The only way to go, is holding onto You.
Writer:
Nic Ford
Washing Me
I am unworthy.
I’m the one who cannot be.
I’m not good enough to be here.
Not righteous in this seat.
It was my voice that pierced You.
My nail that made You scream.
Yet You’re the One who’s kneeling.
You’re the One washing me.
CHO
Oh Lamb, of the Great Valley
Oh Spotless Sacrifice
Oh Blameless Love of Mercy
Oh Son of Endless Light
You’re wrenching rags before me.
You’re knelt here, at my feet.
I am the one who cried to kill You,
And yet, You’re washing me.
How can I know this goodness?
How can I taste this love?
A King who sits below me
While I am comfortably above?
I’m colored by my sinning.
From head down to my feet.
And You’re the One who’s kneeling,
You’re the One washing me.
Writers:
Gary Chapman, Nic Ford
There's blood on the tree
Guilty. A name for me but writ upon Your tree. The curse I earned, it’s running down Your cheek. Bloodied tears, they’re dripping off Your chin. Denied you three, but here I am.
I’m standing. So close I can touch Your feet. I’m weeping, watching iron stakes bleed. I’m breathing, stealing air You’re offering. It’s raining red, it’s painting me. I’m guilty. Guilty but free. There’s blood on the tree
Darkness comes. It covers the whole scene. I hear Your heart take its one last beat. Tetelestai. Now it is complete. One life for all. One life where I should be. But here I am. Standing. I’m guilty. Guilty but free. There’s blood on the tree.
Yeshua, Yeshua speak! The Savior is walking, He’s unchained from the tree. He’s holding my hand now, He’s eating with me. This marvelous love, this unknowable thing. Yeshua is risen, He’s taken His seat. And I. I am free. There’s blood on the tree.
Writers:
Nic Ford
Wild
Wild like the winding of a river running’ long.
Like the rugged reddened rock of a mountainside at dawn.
It’s just how He made him. He puts the country in a song.
Yeah he’s a wild beauty. Wild, masculine, and strong.
CHO
There’s wild in his soul that pulls against the reigns.
There’s freedom in his blood. It flows within his veins.
Adventure in his heart. Not one anyone could tame.
But for me he’ll still come home. His wild knows my name.
He’s wild like the thunder that echoes across the plains.
Like the rush of falling water or the crash of pounding waves.
He’s as sure as the sun rising and as brilliant as the pain,
that fills me when he’s near and breaks me when he’s away.
Writers:
Nic Ford
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