Strophe 1
My [A]eyes are [E]dry, my [D]faith is [A]old,
My [Bm]heart is [F#m]hard, my [E]prayers are cold;
And [A]I know [E]how I [D]ought to [A]be:
A[Bm]live to [F#m]You and [E]dead to [A]me.

Strophe 2
[A]Oh, what can be [D]done for an [D]old [C#m]heart [Bm]like [A]mine?
Soften it [E]up with oil and [A]wine;
The oil is [D]You, Your Spi[C#m]rit [Bm]of [A]love,
Please wash me a[E]new
In the [D]wine of Your [A]blood.