Felix Culpa

Turn the lights on, look at what I have
See the twisted trophies of a dead man
Countless stories, tell of sin and pain
But they sing the sweetness of my savior’s grace

I’m a torn man, spirit fighting flesh
There’s a battle raging deep in my chest
But all that haunts me, all that leaves a stain
Only sings the sweetness of my savior’s grace

A fortunate fall, my sins are stories of grace to recall
A fortunate fall, I glory in my sins forgiven

Jesus bought me, and now I am his
Dying with him, in his death I now live
All my vices, to which I was chained
Only speak the sweetness of my savior’s grace

A fortunate fall, my sins are stories of grace to recall
A fortunate fall, I glory in my sins forgiven

And still I’m a wicked, wretched man, I do everything I hate
I am fighting to be God, I seethe and claw and thrash and shake
I have killed and stacked the dead, on a throne from which I reign
In the end I just want blood, and with his blood my hands are stained
See the God who reigns on high, he has opened his own veins
From his wounds a rushing torrent that can wash it all away
Grace upon grace, upon grace upon grace
Grace