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