Shekinah Glory - Raise A Praise Lyrics

Video

"Praise Is What I Do" Shekinah Glory Ministry lyrics

Meaning & Inspiration

The music of Shekinah Glory Ministry doesn't live in the sterile, high-production echo chambers of modern CCM. It sits squarely in the tradition of the Black church experience, specifically the kind of mid-2000s praise and worship that prioritized endurance over trendiness. When you hear the opening chords of "Praise Is What I Do," you aren't hearing an attempt at a crossover hit; you’re hearing an altar call disguised as a hymn.

The linguistic choice in the line "Forever will I ever praise You" is fascinating. It’s a rhythmic repetition—the "ever" doubling down on the "forever"—that mimics the repetitive, trance-like state of congregational singing. It’s not elegant poetry; it’s a stubborn declaration. It reminds me of David in Psalm 103:2, where he commands his own soul to "forget not all His benefits." In a culture obsessed with the "now," there is something deeply disruptive about the word "forever." It’s an act of defiance against the fleeting nature of feelings. We live in a time where people switch their allegiances based on a shift in social media winds, but this song anchors itself in a permanent state of obligation to gratitude.

"You have given me peace of mind"—this is where the lyrics hit the most crowded part of our current condition. We are a generation drowning in noise and clinical anxiety, yet here is this chorus, stripped of complex theology, aiming straight for the nervous system. When the choir sings this, it lands less like a suggestion and more like a prescription. There’s a tension here, though. Can "praise" really be an antidote to the actual, gritty reality of a mental health crisis, or are we just papering over the cracks? Listening to the track, you hear the vocalists leaning into that question. They aren't singing from a place of casual ease; they are singing from a place of having survived something.

There’s a specific "slang" of the sanctuary present here. Phrases like "rest of my days" or the simple, unadorned "Thank you Jesus" are markers of a specific sub-culture that views worship as a transaction of survival. The message isn't lost in the "vibe," but the vibe is the message. The music creates a space where the listener is encouraged to stop analyzing the lyrics and start inhabiting them.

Sometimes I wonder if we’ve lost the capacity for this kind of singular focus. We want our music to be clever, to have a hook that surprises, or to capture the complexities of modern doubt. Shekinah Glory Ministry refuses that. They don't want you to think; they want you to yield. Whether you find that liberating or stifling depends entirely on how much you trust the source of the "peace" they’re singing about. I don’t have a clean answer for that. I just know that when the refrain circles back for the tenth time, the logic of the world outside the sanctuary starts to feel a little thinner, and the weight of that "forever" starts to feel a little more real.