I sing for joy 

In my remorse 

A well within prosperity's curse 

That drowns the mighty oak of pride 

But feeds the root of God inside. 



In You 

I find my rest 

In You 

I find my death 

In You 

I find my all and my emptiness 

Somehow it all makes sense 



In You I'm rich 

When I've been made poor 

Comfort found when I mourn 

The prideful one You see from afar 

Drawing near to low, broken hearts. 



In You 

I find my rest 

In You 

I find my death 

In You 

I find my all and my emptiness 

But it all makes sense