Don Moen - I Want to Know You More Lyrics

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Don Moen - I Want to Know You More | Praise and Worship Music

Meaning & Inspiration

I sat in the armchair this morning, the one with the frayed velvet arms, and let Don Moen’s voice fill the quiet room. My hands are spotted now, the knuckles swollen from years of work and too many winters, and they don’t hold a Bible as steadily as they used to. When you’ve been walking this path for four decades, you stop looking for firecrackers and start looking for something that won’t burn out when the clock strikes three in the morning and you’re staring at the ceiling.

"To behold the beauty of His holiness."

That’s a heavy thing to say. When I was young, those words felt like a shout, something to throw toward the ceiling of a packed room. But now? It’s a quiet whisper of a prayer. Holiness isn't what I thought it was when I was twenty. Back then, I thought it was a set of fences to keep me safe. Now, looking back at the wreckage I’ve made of my own life and the mercy that somehow kept picking me up, I see it differently. Holiness is the only thing that can look at a man as broken as I am and not turn away. It’s the light that finally shows you the dust motes dancing in the air—the ones you’ve been ignoring your whole life.

It reminds me of that verse in Psalm 27, where David is surrounded by his enemies but only asks for that one thing. He didn't ask for a sword or a fortress. He asked to dwell in the house of the Lord. Most people, when they get to my age, they’re just asking for comfort. They want the ache in their back to go away, or for the bank account to hold steady. But this song—it’s persistent. "I just want to know Him more."

Sometimes I wonder if that’s just a line we sing because it sounds pious. When the body starts failing and the future isn't a long horizon anymore but a narrow lane, does "knowing Him" still feel like a sufficient prize?

"I hear You calling me / To a place where I have never been before."

That part makes me pause. At this stage, I don't want to go anywhere new. I’m tired of new. I want the familiar. And yet, the invitation is still there, pulled from the same well that watered my youth. It’s unsettling. Even now, with my skin thin and my hearing dull, there is a beckoning. It isn't a promise of an easier life; it’s a promise of a larger one.

I don't have all the answers. I still struggle to sit still long enough to let the stillness speak. But listening to Don Moen today, I realize that the desire to know Him is the only thing that hasn't withered. Everything else—my ambition, my certainty, my strength—they’ve all faded like the ink on my favorite hymnal. But that hunger? It’s still biting at my heels. Perhaps that’s what grace looks like in the final act. Not the absence of questions, but the refusal to stop asking for the only thing that matters.