O Soul, can you hear the Savior’s call?
Echoing through fear’s folly and pride’s fall
Inviting us home, though sin has slain all.
O Soul, can you feel the Savior’s hand?
Not striking in deserved reprimand
But loving the leprous without demand.
O Soul, can you smell the garden green?
Where Jesus wept and courage grew lean
Where love ruled and reigned in realms unseen.
O Soul, can you see the Savior’s blood?
It’s rich, red, and real, this righteous flood
It flows down Roman wood into Israel’s mud.
O Soul, can you taste that He is good?
Your God is not an idol made of wood
But loves you deeply as only He could.