For all the love that you had held to,
why it somehow failed to keep.
And sing each minute you've been frightened;
every hour that you've lost sleep
And sing for all your friends and family;
sing for those who didn't survive.
But sing not for their final outcome;
sing a song of how they tried.
We live amidst a violent storm;
leaves us unsatisfied at best,
So fill your heart with what's important,
and be done with all the rest.
Make sure you see this most glorious of all truths: God took the record of all your sins—all your sexual failures—that made you a debtor to wrath, and instead of holding them up in front of your face and using them as the warrant to send you to hell, he put them in the palm of his Son’s hand and nailed them to the cross.