Nathaniel Bassey - Olorun Agbaye - You Are Mighty Lyrics
Released: 30 Oct 2020
Lyrics
Wo ye ye ye ye ye ye ye You are Mighty God, Mighty God Wo ye ye ye oh oh [Verse 1] You are Good, you’re Kind You are more than These I’m lost of Words trying to describe you Elohim, Elayon, Alewilese lewi Your Greatness is all I See There is nothing you cannot do There’s no mountain you cannot move If you have said it, Then you will do it You have a Track record of keeping Words And you’re not about To stop doing it now
Olorun Agbaye oh, (you’re Mighty) Olorun Agbaye oh, oh (you’re Mighty oh) Shebi wa lo f’oju orun s’aso bora Shebi eyin le f’oju orun o s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Olorun Agbaye oh, (you’re Mighty) You’re Mighty oh oh
By the Blood that you shed we have Overcome Discharged and acquitted for life Then you gave us the Right to your Holy Name The scepter of Power and Strength There is nothing you cannot Change There’s no bondage you cannot Break If you have said it then you will do it You have a Track record of keeping Words And you’re not about to stop doing it now
Olorun Agbaye oh, (you’re Mighty) Olorun Agbaye oh, oh (you’re Mighty oh) Olorun Agbaye oh, oh (you’re Mighty oh) Olorun Agbaye oh, oh (you’re Mighty oh) Shebi wa lo f’oju orun s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi eyin le f’oju orun o s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi wa lo f’oju orun s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi eyin le f’oju orun o s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura)
You are mighty oh (You’re Mighty Oh, You’re Mighty Oh) You are mighty oh (You’re Mighty Oh, You’re Mighty Oh) Shebi wa lo f’oju orun s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi eyin le f’oju orun o s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi wa lo f’oju orun s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Shebi eyin le f’oju orun o s’aso bora (Sha sha’wura) Olorun Agbaye oh, (you’re Mighty) Olorun Agbaye oh (………..…..)
Mighty oh, oh (you’re Mighty oh)
Video
OLORUN AGBAYE - YOU ARE MIGHTY
Meaning & Inspiration
I find myself stuck on the phrase, “You have a track record of keeping words.”
There is something jarring about using the language of corporate efficiency or legal documentation—a "track record"—to describe the infinite nature of the Creator. It feels almost mundane, doesn’t it? When we think of track records, we think of baseball statistics, credit scores, or quarterly earnings. It’s cold, empirical, and inherently limited. But here, Nathaniel Bassey uses it to describe the God of the universe.
There is an unavoidable tension here. If I look at the literal definition, a track record implies a history of events that predicts future performance. It suggests that if God fails once, the record is broken. But in Scripture, like Numbers 23:19—“God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind”—the reliability of God isn’t based on a pattern of successes; it’s based on His unchangeable nature.
Yet, when I’m sitting in the middle of a week where nothing seems to go right, where the promises I feel I’ve heard from God seem to be disintegrating, that phrase hits different. It isn’t about cold data. It’s a desperate attempt to grasp at evidence. We are looking for proof in the middle of the fog. By calling it a "track record," Bassey is essentially building an altar out of past victories—reminding himself, and us, that the God who showed up in the desert yesterday is the same one occupying the throne today.
Is it a cliché? Perhaps in the way it’s phrased, it leans toward the familiar. But if you sit with it, it feels more like a survival strategy. It’s an act of defiance against fear. You aren't just reciting a theology of God’s faithfulness; you are auditing your own life, dragging up the instances where the mountain didn’t move, but you survived anyway, or where the promise arrived long after you’d abandoned the schedule you set for Him.
“You’re not about to stop doing it now.” That follow-up line is where the anxiety lives. It admits that there is a part of us that is terrified God might suddenly decide to change the rules or retire from the business of intervention. It’s an unfinished thought, really. We are betting everything on the assumption that the "track record" isn’t just history, but a guarantee of what happens when the music stops and the shouting dies down.
Maybe the poetry isn't meant to be high-minded. Maybe it’s just a way for us to remind our shaky hearts that the God of the universe isn't prone to performance dips. Even if the wording feels like it belongs in a boardroom, it manages to anchor us in the only thing that actually holds when the ground shifts: the terrifying, consistent, and stubbornly persistent nature of a God who refuses to break His word.