Lyrics

I will run

Oh and I won’t quit

Chasing Your heart

Just like David did

I’ll coming running

Through the gates

Looking to Your face

Oh I can hardly wait

Until You carry my soul

Carry my soul away

Carry On Phil Wickham

 
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Now read this

John Donne

No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Manor of thy friends or of... Continue →