Kierra Sheard - Sing to the Lord Lyrics
Lyrics
Out of all the things He's freed us from
Its amazing to see what we've become
Times when He should've given up on us
But He still loved us
See, the enemy tried to use our weaknesses, to destroy us
But God gave us the strength to stand;
With a praise and a dance!
Sing to the Lord a new song!
Sing to the Lord, all the earth!
Sing to the Lord and praise His name!
(repeat 1x)
I will shout to God the Almighty King
Whom I serve, and fear greatly
For who You are, you deserve the praise, and I honor Your Name
Your throne is established, and You're righteous
I will ever know in Zion
To praise thee again!
(chorus)
I wanna see if you
Love the way I do
It doesn't even matter
Who looks at you
With a praise on your lips
And your hands on your hips
A little attitude
Say i love you! (Sing unto the Lord!)
(chorus 1x)
Just wanna scream and shout it (incomprehensible)
I LOVE YOU!
Video
Tasha Cobbs Leonard - Your Spirit ft. Kierra Sheard (Official Video)
Meaning & Inspiration
There’s a moment in Kierra Sheard’s performance where the theological gravity of the opening verse shifts into something much more physical, almost startlingly human. She sings, "With your hands on your hips / A little attitude."
I’ve been stuck on that phrase for days. "A little attitude."
It feels irreverent at first, doesn't it? We are conditioned to think of worship as something tempered, hushed, or at the very least, posture-perfect. But Sheard isn't talking about decorum; she’s talking about the defiance of a person who knows they’ve been rescued from something dark. When you put your hands on your hips, you aren't asking for permission. You are taking up space. It is the posture of someone who refuses to be moved by the enemy’s attempts to "destroy us," as she mentions earlier in the track.
There is a distinct tension between the literal instruction—a sassy, physical stance—and the spiritual reality of bowing before an "Almighty King." How do you reconcile "hands on your hips" with the humility required to serve a God whose "throne is established"?
Maybe the tension is exactly the point.
The Scriptures remind us in Psalm 30:11, "You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy." That transition from sackcloth—the garment of mourning and brokenness—to a posture of confidence feels remarkably like what Sheard is describing. If God has truly freed you from the things that were meant to destroy you, then the "new song" isn't just a hymn; it’s an expression of liberated personality. It’s a bit messy. It’s human. It has "attitude" because it has been tested.
When I listen to this, I think about the times I’ve felt spiritually paralyzed, thinking that praise had to be a pristine, quiet affair. But Sheard suggests that sometimes, the most honest way to love God is to be bold enough to show a little bit of your own personality—the unpolished, slightly stubborn, joyful parts of yourself that survived the fire.
It makes me wonder if we’ve spent too much time trying to scrub the human edges off our worship. Does the Almighty need us to be stiff? Or does He appreciate the "attitude" of a child who knows they’ve been loved back from the brink? It’s an unfinished thought for me—this idea that my personal, everyday sassiness can actually be part of a legitimate "praise on my lips." But standing there, hands on hips, singing "I love you" in the middle of a world that tried to break you? That’s not just a song. That’s a survivor’s anthem.