CalledOut Music - My Prayer (Yahweh) Lyrics
Lyrics
I’m getting sick and I’m tired of living life this way Lord, without You here with me all I seem to do is make mistakes I’m asking, is there a limit to Your mercy? Coz I wanna know I wanna go back to the days where for You I was thirsty. Okay now, Lord I apologize Again I crucified You I tried to fight it but it’s clear I need You to survive So many times I tried, with my own devices But You told me everything I need You have provided Blind to Your love, was deaf to Your call I come before Your throne of grace and I surrender all Coz when I fall, You’re there to catch me, so if they ask me
Chorus
Your grace is all need, Oh Lord You see the best in me
it’s why I call You Yahweh, it’s why I call You Yahweh
when I’m walking through the valley let me feel You next to me
and that’s my prayer, and thats my prayer
You know my thoughts You know my heart You know my prayer Lord You know my prayer Lord
And so I pray Let Your spirit fill me, everyday I’m breathing Let Your mercy shield me, shield me from all evil Cuz it was You who found me So in You just ground me Build a tower around me Goodness and favour round me Begging never allow me Never move on without me If You move on without me, Waters of death will drown me Sometimes it gets so rowdy My sunny days get cloudy But with You I overcome.
Your grace is all need, Oh Lord You see the best in me
it’s why I call You Yahweh, it’s why I call You Yahweh
when I’m walking through the valley let me feel You next to me
and that’s my prayer, and thats my prayer, my prayer
You know my thoughts You know my heart You know my prayer Lord You know my prayer Lord
Video
CalledOut Music - My Prayer (Yahweh) [Official Music Video]
Meaning & Inspiration
I spent an hour this morning sitting on the back porch, watching the coffee steam disappear into the morning mist. My hands don't hold a pen the way they used to, and the skin is like crinkled parchment now, but they still know the weight of a heavy Bible. I was listening to CalledOut Music, letting the notes drift through the quiet, and I found myself snagged on a single line: "If You move on without me, waters of death will drown me."
There’s a raw, frantic honesty in those words that usually gets sanded down by the time a person reaches my age. Most folks like to talk about God as a gentle companion, a quiet walk in the garden. And He is. But when the knees give out and the shadows in the corner of the room start looking a little too familiar, that "gentle companion" language feels thin. You realize, quick-like, that you are entirely dependent on Him not walking away. It’s not a theological concept at that point; it’s survival. It reminds me of Peter, sinking into the dark salt water, his fingers grasping for something solid. He didn’t need a sermon. He needed a hand to pull him up.
"I’m sick and I’m tired of living life this way."
I remember saying that to the ceiling in the middle of a night in 1982. I’d spent the whole week trying to fix a mess of my own making, clutching my "own devices" just like the song says. You think you’re building something, brick by brick, and then you look down and realize you’ve only built a cage. It’s humiliating, coming back to the start with nothing but empty pockets. But that’s where the mercy actually lives. It doesn't live in the highlights of a life; it lives in the wreckage.
Hebrews 4:16 talks about approaching the throne of grace with confidence. When I was younger, I thought "confidence" meant standing tall. Now, I know it means knowing exactly where the floor is when you fall.
I’m sitting here, watching the sun hit the fence post, and I find myself wondering if I’ve truly learned to stay grounded in Him, or if I’m still just waiting for the next cloud to pass. The song asks for a tower to be built around the spirit—goodness and favor. It sounds like a sturdy prayer for someone who knows how easily the "waters of death" rise.
There’s a lot of noise in this world that promises you can stand on your own two feet, that your strength is the ultimate currency. But when you’ve walked long enough, you see that strength is a vapor. What remains, when the house is quiet and the friends have all gone home, is the simple, desperate reality that if He isn't there, the math of life just doesn't add up.
I don't know if I have the answer to why the days get "rowdy" or why the sun disappears behind the clouds so suddenly. I just know that when I listen to these words, they don't sound like a young man’s noise. They sound like a man who has looked over the edge and decided he’d rather stay close to the Savior than be right on his own. That’s enough for me. For today, at least, that’s enough.