Ride Through The Fields

I don't deserve the honor
I don't earn the call
And music
I'm clay on the wheel
I don't shape it all
The potter could speak
And the mountains would move
He could shout the gospel straight into
The gloom.
And singing
But he placed it in vessels
With dust in their veins
Put fire in our lungs
And a song in our frame
I don't carry the power
I just carry the sound
It's his truth on my lips as my
Feet hit the ground
If he could do it alone
He still chose me
What a mercy
What a mystery
So let me ride through the fields with the wind in my hair.