Текст песни US - John Michael Howell

my blessings come from the father
the glory's not mine to take
I'm the clay, is the potter
and i chose, to be used,
by hands for your plan, my life's your to take
cause's the way you, hold, hold, hold, hold... How'd i do?
feel so holy, holy, holy, holy...
Oh God I'm running to the altar like track star.