Imagine a rock, a mighty rock
That’s fallen in the sea
Open to a scouring power
That could be you and me
The constant washing wears it down
The edges smoothed away
A pebble pure in form and shape
Attractive in it’s way.
Imagine a soul, a tortured soul
Whose life has been a chore
They ask for help and Jesus comes
They can’t take any more
His Spirit washes clean the soul
All defects scoured away
Like a pebble, they are pure
Attractive in their way.
