Lord, Please tell me what it is I used to do. Was I not a prophet, or a dreamer, or a seer? All people I had fooled. Please tell me who it is used to be. Did I not proselytize over land and sea, Begetting twice the sons of hell as me? And tell me, Lord, Who holds the key the heaven's narrow doors? 'Cause every time I try to open them I open my right hand and find a stone And with my left, Outstretched for every gift that I produce, I lay in wait for seven more To compensate for every gift that I misuse Oh, in all I've done I've done all in vain 'Till I learned to say, Thy will be done In all I was, I was all in vain I will learn to obey, Thy will be done. All who hold to the words to surrender all To who gives and takes away, and builds from naught.