I see. I see. I see. The Glory of. In the year Uzziah died. I saw the Lord seated high. And His presence filled the sky. The temple shook and I cried. Not before my eyes. The Glory of the King. My lips are Unclean. And so I scream: Woe to me. I am undone. Woe to me. My sin revealed. Woe to me. Fallen on my face. Woe to me. And my eyes have seen the King Holy. Holy. Holy. The Glory of. A burning coal to purify. To my lips seraphim they fly. Behold the cleansing fire. Shout to me celestial choir. "Your guilt is taken away, Your sins atoned for". Exclaims the voice of the Lord, "Who shall we send, who will go for us?" Here am I. No longer afraid. Here am I. My lips are cleansed. Here am I. I am made whole. Here am I. So send me. Now before my eyes. The Glory of the King. My lips are made clean. And so I sing. Joy to me. I have been set free. Joy to me. I the foulest. Joy to me. Found without blame. Joy to me. And my eyes have seen the King.
