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Is it not more to ask that this all happened by chance
Then to faithfully bask in each and every single glance
Is it not easier to believe with such an ample display
Than it is to deceive that this is not the Lord's Way

Is it not more calming to the heart in just knowing His Name
Then denying this whole entire part or that Jesus ever came
The peacefulness of His word alone in revealing His Amazing Grace
Is so far less absurd than that of which one would say in replace

Science being so fickle in lugging around that golden calf
Being in such a pickle in butting up against God's Staff
Could your breath be not better used as to all the world you decree
Yet within you being so confused I find great concern in me

So we continue down our own road in each sticking to our claim
But the parable of what is sowed will forever remain the same
The Lord spoke of the ground and the four types of soil
A truth so easily found but you go ahead and continue to toil

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