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Danielle Rose
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The Saint That Is Just Me
O I thought I'd be heroic and inspiring.
I wanted to offer you the greatest sacrifice.
Like all the saints who'd gone before me,
I tried to prove my love for you, and so to gain the prize.
I thought I'd be a martyr like Cecilia.
I hoped I'd disappear like Saint Therese,
Or wear a hidden crown of thorns like Rose of Lima,
To heal the sick and raise the dead.
When you hung upon the cross looking at me,
You didn't die so I would try to be somebody else.
You died so I could be the saint that is just me.
I wanted to be poor and free like Francis,
To cut off my long hair like lovely Clare.
To be faithful like Mother Teresa in the darkness,
Lord, won't you make me just like her?
I tried to kneel for hours in the chapel corner,
To persevere like Paul with all my sleepless nights,
To stay awake and trim my lamp with ten wise virgins,
To really give the devil a good fight.
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When you hung upon the cross looking at me,
You didn't die so I would try to be somebody else.
You died so I could be the saint that is just me,
Just me, you died just for me.
Just me, just me, you died just for me.
You saw that I was perfectly imperfect.
O happy fault, the sin of Adam's pride.
That's the reason that you became man,
And bore the new Eve from your wounded side.
If it weren't for my sins or wounds or weakness,
Then you wouldn't have married me upon the cross.
Why do I fear being seen naked and broken?
That's why you came; cause I need you that much.
When you hung upon the cross looking at me,
You didn't die so I would try to be somebody else.
You died so I could be the saint that is just me.
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