Bethel Music + Josie Buchanan - Worthy of It All Lyrics
Lyrics
You're worthy of it all
You're worthy of it all
For from You are all things
And to You are all things
You deserve the glory
You're worthy of it all
You're worthy of it all
For from You are all things
And to You are all things
You deserve the glory
Day and night, night and day
Let incence arise
Day and night, night and day
Let incence arise
Day and night, night and day
Let incence arise
You're worthy of it all
You're worthy of it all
For from You are all things
And to You are all things
You deserve the glory
Josie Buchanan & Morgan Faleolo | Bethel Music
Video
Worthy of It All | Worship Moment - Bethany Wohrle
Meaning & Inspiration
When I’m standing on a platform, there’s a distinct difference between a room that is singing because they’ve been stirred by a melody and a room that is singing because they’ve been undone by a truth.
"Worthy of it all" is one of those songs that risks becoming a sonic wallpaper. It’s incredibly repetitive, and in the wrong hands, that repetition can feel like a calculated way to induce a trance-like emotional state. As a worship leader, I have to constantly ask myself: am I leading these people into a divine encounter, or am I just managing the atmosphere to get an emotional rise?
There is a specific line that stops me in my tracks every time: "For from You are all things, and to You are all things."
It’s a direct nod to Romans 11:36. When we sing that, we’re acknowledging a circular reality: everything originates in God, and everything finds its resolution in Him. In the middle of a Sunday morning, when everyone is tired, or worried about their bills, or carrying the weight of a difficult week, this line forces a shift in perspective. It pulls our focus away from our own narrative—where we think we are the center of the story—and places us back into His.
But here’s the tension: when we sing this for the tenth time in a row, does it become a hollow mantra?
I watch the room when we hit the bridge—"Day and night, night and day, let incense arise." It’s a beautiful image, evocative of the temple sacrifices and the perpetual worship around the throne in Revelation. But it’s also a heavy, challenging invitation. To suggest that our lives should be a constant "incense" that rises to Him isn't a lighthearted, "feel-good" sentiment. It implies a total surrender, a willingness to be burned up for His purposes.
Sometimes, I look out at the congregation and wonder if we’re just enjoying the comfort of the reverb and the familiar chord progression. Are we actually offering our "day and night" to Him, or are we just checking a box for the hour we’re in the building?
If the music stops and the lights dim, do we still believe He is worthy of the glory when the "incense" is actually our own personal sacrifice? That’s the unfinished work of the song. It’s easy to sing about His worthiness when the room is humming with energy. It’s a much harder, grittier reality to live out that worthiness on a Tuesday afternoon.
I don't think we ever fully "arrive" at the end of this song. I think we just keep singing it until the truth of it starts to break down our own selfishness. And if we’re still standing there, still singing, still trying to align our hearts with that reality, maybe that’s enough for today.