Counted righteous, yet we sin
Broken, but He lives within
Dying daily while we live
We are paupers, yet we give
Owning, but cannot afford
Wealth belonging to the Lord
Rich beyond all human dreams
In the desert finding streams
Walking from the state of death
Lungs of dust inflate with breath
Weakness shows a deeper might
Faith replaces eyes for sight
Hope endures when hope has died
Tortured souls in peace abide
Counting joy the deepest strife
Dying Son; eternal life
The tragedies and maladies of life
All serve a saving purpose for the saint
For struggles that surmount a life with strife
Become the hues with which our Lord doth paint
O’er ev’ry evil, Elohim prevails
Effulgent Savior, holy thaumaturge
From death’s embrace, the true Messiah hails
And makes what brought despair to heal and purge
Now watch as broken daughters rise to dance
Now see as sickly sons stand up to praise
The vilest horrors help to fix our stance
The worst oppression only lifts the haze
No pow’r is held by any enemy
All things do work as one for good to me
as i learn to walk 