He stretches out the north over empty space 

And hangs the earth on nothing 

And how faint a word we even hear of Him 

And yet – our eyes and ears and minds get all the candy 



I sing for grace 

For grace it lets me sing 

And all I've ever seen or heard 

Or haven't seen or heard 

It's His 

There is no other 

All of this is but the fringes 



And these are but the fringes 

And all the world hinges 

On His grace and on His word 

It speaks things into being 

And the spoken things revealing 

The glory of our God and King 



I'm stumbling upon things that aren't mine 

Things he spoke to life before time 

Name one thing that's not 

One law or thought 

He taught the clay 

Molded it 

Behold, He called the sheep 

That's why they came 

Sheep! Who by grace get a peep 

And make it cheap by calling it mine 



"Behold, these are the fringes of His ways; And how faint a word we hear of Him! But His mighty thunder, who can understand?" (Job 26:14)