There is a song for my family Outside the walls of Sunday Morning from some within. This is a song to confess our sins, Lay it all out, and try to begin again. To hope again.
Please forgive our ignorance In looking down on you Please forgive our selfishness For hiding in our pews while the world bleeds While the world needs us to be what we should be
This is a song for my family who Just can't believe in the Jesus that you've seen on Sunday morning.
This is a song for the cynical saints. The burned out and hopeless. The ones that we've cast away. I feel your pain.
Please forgive the wastefulness of all that we could be But don't forget, there's more than this Her beauty still exists His bride is still alive His bride is still alive His bride is still alive His bride is still alive His bride is still alive
This is a song for my family inside The walls of Sunday morning. Be what you should be.
