I’ve got nothing left to hide.
All my sin and shame and pride;
My lust, the times I lied;
The times I failed, never tried:
For all this I should have died and yet—


I see his love how wide:
For in Gethsemane he cried;
Mocked to the cross, stride by stride;
Naked, nailed, died;
Sword piercing his side.


And so he swept away sin’s tide;
Demons, death denied;
Came back to win his bride.
Now he calls me to his side,
His arms stretched wide.