Oh sovereign God, Oh matchless King The saints adore, the angels sing And fall before the throne of grace To You belongs the highest praise These sufferings
I trust in You, my faithful Lord How perfect is Your love You answer me before I call My hope, my strength, my song And I shout for joy, I thank You,
We're gonna praise His holy name We're gonna praise His holy name Lift Him up, above the heavens Praise His holy name Lord I want to thank You for everything
Whoo! It sure is hot out here Ya know? I don't mind though Just glad to be free Know what I'm saying, uh! Take the shackles off my feet so I can dance
Lord, Your name is above any other name And forever will remain So let the words of my mouth And the thoughts in my heart Let them praise Your name
Ich gehe im grellen Sonnenlicht, eine Erleuchtung, die die Nacht verschwinden la?t. Sie wei?, da? die Verhei?ungen mit 100prozentiger Sicherheit eintreffen
Praise Him in the mornin' For tall and lofty trees And praise Him in the evening For children on their knees Oh and praise Him in the noonday For gentle
Holy God, we praise Thy Name Lord of all, we bow before Thee All on earth Thy scepter claim All in Heaven above adore Thee Infinite Thy vast domain
Praise him praise him Jesus our blessed redeemer Sing oh earth his wonderful love proclaim Hail him hail him highest archangels in glory Strength and
Remnants, From the ash arise the allegiance Martyr's unforgotten lives, immortal Heretics, gods of the Dawning time... Vindictive Praise this source
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition And we'll all stay free Praise
I was born in the cold december I was born - and I still remember I was born and my eyes were swollen I was born and my future's stolen pinned alive whipped
The mother of all that is evil Her lips are poisonous venom Wicked temptress knows how to please The priestess roars, "Get down on your knees" The rite
You know it's Whitey and the Likwits I say it's Whitey and the Likwits You know it's Whitey and the Likwits Watch me rock these sounds from the Polo
If I were a drummer, I would use my cymbal If I were a writer, I would use a pencil I would use my voice, if I were a singer No matter who or what we
I met a little girl in Knoxville A town we all know well And every Sunday evening Out in her home I'd dwell We went to take an evening walk About a mile
It was on one cold winter night When the wind blew across the wild moor When Mary came wandering home with her child Till she came to her own father's
Chorus: Chorus till fade
