Worship?

       
        I’ve worshipped on the mountain top.
        I’ve worshipped where I felt him not.
       When I jumped up and raised my hands,
       When I fell to my knees in the driest lands.

       To bow in worship and raise him up,
       He deserves it all, he really does.
       What do I bring? My works? My deeds?
       Does his power and ability depend on me?

        Not one man can make him more,
       Because he came long before.
       But he loved me, sought me, my soul he redeemed,
       And set my feet near refreshing streams.

       
       His waters brought new life to me.
       They washed away the dirt, the grime.
       Forgave every turning, every one of mine.

       He says to me, “I need you not!
       But I want you fully. It is you I bought.
       With precious blood. It cost my son.
       The cost was high. I held back none”.

       What can I say?
       What can I utter to this King?
       As I look on, I realize there is nothing I bring.

       As I sit in my weakness, he raises my chin.
       He looks at me and asks me to sing.
       Give me your voice, your feet, your hands.
       Worship me fully, with all that you can.