I sing for joy
In my remorse
A well within prosperity's curse
That drowns the mighty oak of pride
But feeds the root of God inside
In You
I find my rest
In You
I find my death
In You
I find my all and my emptiness
Somehow it all makes sense
In You I'm rich
When I've been made poor
Comfort found when I mourn
The prideful one You see from afar
Drawing near to low, broken hearts
In You
I find my rest
In You
I find my death
In You
I find my all and my emptiness
But it all makes sense