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)
