This wooden soul of mine   It cannot ever climb   From places it has fallen   In between where light can shine   It never falls in line   It barely has a spine   Like branches severed from the vine   Like it was faulty by design   And now your mercy lights up my dark eyes   Your brilliant hope now lifts my falling skies   And I'm the object of your affection   You loved me still in my imperfection      The sun will shine on winter snow   And shadows fade   In Excelsis Deo      This wooden soul is old   Its lies are growing cold   Its knotted trunk is straightening   Its roots are loosening their hold   So cluttered with debris   This inefficient melody   I'll keep waiting patiently   If this world will ever release me   You love me even though I am untrue   If I was perfect, I wouldn't need you   I'm the object of your affection   You loved me still in my imperfection      Gloria, in Excelsis Deo   Not so far, not so far to go