murdered son

John Mark Mcmillan

You set us up above all the stars
Set up on a high place by where you are
And while we were dead, you made us your friends
And scattered our debt upon the winds

Glory to one, god's murdered son
Who paid for my resurrection

Once from the dust, and once from the grave
Daughters and sons from the ashes you've raised
And hidden our faults even from your own face
And scattered our debt upon the waves

Glory to the one who overcame in death
Glory to the one who paid for my offenses
Glory to the one, glory to the one