How similar are marble forms and bones, both so white,
And each, within respective ways, reflect their makers' life,
One is formed by human hands,
Patient for the shape to show itself from in the rock,
The way his hands create,
The other is divinely done, spoken into time,
Bearing holy, life-stained lips from Heavens' kiss sublime.
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
A mystery to applaud,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
Made in the image of God.
The way we have our life and being was planned in Gods' own mind,
It's not just lovely happenstance,
How else, but by design?
Our making was intentional, created out of love,
The Spirit lives inside of us, a hand inside a glove.
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
A mystery to applaud,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
Made in the image of God,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
A mystery to applaud,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
Made in the image of God.
Marble's not as fragile as life inside of skin, but breathless, it will always be,
Hollow from within.
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
A mystery to applaud,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
Made in the image of God,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
A mystery to applaud,
We're more than talking stones,
We're more than walking bones,
Made in the image of God.
