Sting

I'll drink this cup, if it is your will I know you'll provide for my needs And I'd rather die than disappoint you A promise I'll take to the grave But when I die, oh, death be not proud You take only that which I give In like a thief and out like a king Bearing your sting in my hands Here on this perch, with a song to sing That I'd like to sing with my friends But looking down, they seem to have hid Suddenly safe to dismiss (I'm singing suddenly safe to Dismas) But when I die, oh, death be not proud You take only that which I give In like a thief and out like a king Bearing your sting in my hands It is well with their souls Because I've made it so And all the power you hold Is running right out of a hole in the ground where a stone was once rolled It is well with their souls Because I've made it so And all of the power you hold Is running right out of the holes in my hands where my saving blood flows But when I die, oh, death be not proud You take only that which I give In like a thief and out like a king Bearing your sting in my hands Bearing your sting in my hands You've got no sting left for my friends see less