Life started out like a canvas
And God started
painting on me
But I took the paint
brush from Jesus
And painted what
I wished to see
And the colors I
painted kept running
And the objects
were all out of size
I had made a mess
of my painting
My way now
seemed so unwise
So I brought my
painting to Jesus
All the colors all the
pieces so wrong
In the markets of earth
it was worthless
But His blood made
my painting belong
He worked with
no condemnation
Never mentioned the
mess I had made
Then He dipped His
brush in the rainbow
And He signed it the
price has been paid
When I gave the
brush back to Jesus
When I gave the
brush back to Him
He started all over
Like's canvas to fill
When I gave to Jesus
the brush of my will