Dena Mwana - L'Eternel Est Bon Lyrics
Lyrics
Et mon âme te loue Et mon âme t’adore Et mon âme te loue Car nul n’est comme Toi C’est un chant nouveau Qui monte dans mon cœur Un cantique d’amour Pour mon seul Sauveur Il m’a pris de loin Il m’a lavé eh Et m’a racheté, et placé à ses côtés Je n’ai plus peur de rien Je ne crains plus rien Car le bon Berger, est de mon côté
Même les ténèbres, n’ont plus aucun pouvoir sur moi Car la clé de la mort, c’est mon maître qui la tient Quand Il me tient la main Nous fonçons droit dans l’armée de l’ennemi Et le grand Goliath, se retrouve par terre Lui seul me suffit, lui seul est tout pour moi Quand je ne sais comment dire, je me mets à chanter
L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon Il est bon pour moi L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon Il est bon pour moi
Ses bontés divines, son amour parfait Ses empreintes d’en haut, font ma différence Je ne suis qu’une fille, et lui est mon Papa papa papa Oh regarde bien, j’ai les traits du ROI Lui seul me suffit, Lui seul est tout pour moi Quand je ne sais comment dire, je me mets à chanter
L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon, bon, bon L’éternel est bon Il est bon pour moi L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon Il est bon pour moi L’éternel est bon L’éternel est bon, bon L’éternel est bon Il est bon pour moi
Lui seul me suffit, Lui seul est tout pour moi Quand je ne sais comment dire, je me mets à chanter
Video
Dena Mwana - L'Eternel est Bon.
Meaning & Inspiration
Dena Mwana writes in "L'Eternel est Bon" that she has "les traits du ROI" (the features of the King). I keep coming back to that line. It’s an audacious claim—not just that she is loved by a monarch, but that she physically resembles him.
In a literal sense, this is a biological impossibility, a poetic reach that leans dangerously close to the kind of religious vanity we are taught to avoid. We spend so much time talking about how we are "made in His image," but we treat that as a dusty theological fact, something relegated to Sunday school primers. But when Mwana sings it, it’s not an abstract observation. It’s a statement of ownership. To have the features of the King is to walk through the world bearing a likeness that the world didn't give you and cannot take away.
But here is where the tension sits: do I actually look like Him? When I look in the mirror after a bad week, after snapping at a friend or succumbing to an old, familiar bitterness, I certainly don't see royal features. I see the same old mess. I see the "traits" of my own insecurities.
The spiritual friction here is between the promise and the evidence. Paul tells the Galatians that Christ is being "formed" in them, a painful, ongoing process. Mwana, however, speaks as if the forming is finished. It’s the difference between saying "I am trying to be like God" and "I belong to the house of God."
Maybe the revelation isn't that we are perfect replicas of divine nature, but that we are identified by the family resemblance. If you look closely enough at anyone who has been truly "taken from afar" and "washed"—as Mwana describes earlier in the song—you eventually stop looking for their flaws and start looking for the marks of their Savior. It’s an uncomfortable thought because it puts the responsibility of reflection on the one being looked at. If I am claiming the King as my Father, I am implicitly claiming that my life is meant to be a recognizable copy of His character.
It makes the chorus—the simple, repetitive assertion that "L'Eternel est bon"—feel less like a chant and more like a defense. If He is good, then the features He has left on me must be good, even the ones I’m still trying to grow into. It forces me to ask: if I am a child of the King, why do I so often try to hide the family resemblance in order to fit in with a different kingdom?
It is an unfinished thought. I am not entirely sure I believe I have those features on my worst days, yet the song insists on it. It refuses to let me be just a person; it insists that I am a representative. It’s a heavy, beautiful, and slightly frightening way to live.