What will I say of you Lord?
What words will I use this love to say?
What drawing do I make your love to show?
I hope I were a renown poet, poems of you to write
I wish I were an artist, your love to inscribe on walls
Yet I am just but me; not a Da Vinci, no Shakespeare
Just but a man of lay words, a mere commoner
See now my yearning to speak a word, just of your love
But then all of us are commoners, both artists and poets;
At the mention of your love, none can define
So like the sinful woman I just but stoop
Feel my tears wash thy precious feet oh Lord
See as I open my oil, on thee to anoint
None much I have your feet to rid my tears; only my hair
For you love overcomes my wicked soul, oh ye holy one
So what shall say of your love, dear mighty lover?
No words I dare speak for none of mine is worthy
Only myself I bring, on my knees to worship
This my worship I render to none other but thee
Thanks for your everlasting, ever abounding love Lord.