I’ve been mountain climbing desperately;
out of breath, building stairs of stones to nowhere,
ebenezers to my neediness.
Like Moses you gave me a glimpse of what will be,
what should be, what must be. I ache for the promised land, Lord,

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

I want to bring the ark, I want to lead the band,
I want to build your name a temple with my hands,
in doing so I disregard your explicit commands
if you are not the rock upon which my feet are standing,
upon which my handiwork is built. My God,

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

You have made the point well:
a shaking is coming that will show what stones are sturdy,
a fire that will prove what wheat is worthy.
Anything I build not built on you will fall, I know.
You are the sole foundation, security, and hope.

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Mountain climbing is irrelevant: stair-stepping,
rule-keeping, crowd-pleasing, all is vanity without you.
You save, and you justify, so I praise, and I glorify,
and it comes down to: I believe this work is worth it
because you are God, and you are good.

Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.