I wish I could do more, my Lord, my King,
For You who gave everything—
Your hands pierced, Your side torn wide,
To raise me up in victory’s tide.

Yet here I stand with empty hands,
A heart that burns, yet scarce began
To match the grace that set me free,
The boundless love You poured on me.

Still, in the quiet, small and true,
I offer what my soul can do:
A whispered praise at break of day,
A step of faith along Your way.

A cup of water given kind,
A listening ear, a soul aligned—
These humble threads, though frail they seem,
You weave into a greater dream.

So take my “more,” though small it be,
And multiply it, Lord, through me.
Until that day I see Your face,
And all my striving finds its place.

In Your mercy, let it be enough—
My all for You, my precious love.