MARTHA
Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, which should come,
The Son of God,
But I do not understand...
Touch my eyes and bid them see
That my gaze might pierce the veil,
And behold the wondrous scene
That, in dreams, I've long beheld.
Oh, touch my heart and bid it know
That ev'ry sorrow here
Is but a moment's tear,
And Thou wilt make me whole again.
Touch my ears and bid them hear
All the glory of Thy truth,
That my hope might come of faith
And no more require proof.
Oh, touch my heart and bid it know
That, while in darkness here,
The Light is ever near,
And Thou wilt make me whole again.
Then touch my lips and bid them sing
Songs of everlasting praise,
That my soul might then believe
And give thanks through all my days!
Oh touch my heart and bid it know
That ev'ry breath I take
Is by Thy tender grace,
And Thou wilt make me whole,
And Thou wilt make me whole,
Oh, Thou wilt make me whole again.