O Lord, let not my heart grow cold, nor cling to power, wealth, or gold. Let me release what You demand, And worship You with open hand.

I saw the locusts fill the sky, the cries of Egypt rising high. Yet still I held my throne, my name, Afraid to bow, afraid of shame.

But now I see Your hand is just, Your breath can turn all stone to dust. So, take this crown, this hardened heart, and let Your mercy do its part.

Let Israel go, let praises rise, Let freedom echo through the skies. I yield, I bend, I break, I see, Your power was meant to set us free. However, Pharaoh did not yield.