I built myself a house
That was so great and grand.
I built with all the best
Materials at hand.
I built the walls of straw,
The floor of stubble hay,
The beams were painted reeds,
Foundations made of clay.
In envy of my house,
All people came to gaze.
And I have all I need,
In this, the house I raised.

But then God sent a wind,
With lightening from the sky,
In leveling my house,
He leveled too my pride.
For with my hand I built,
And now He struck my hand,
And so I see my sin.
I see that I am damned.

Forgive me for my pride,
For humbled now I see,
When You hacked down my house,
It was a grace to me.
My house but blocked my view,
And limited my sights.
Now clearly I perceive,
Your holy house of life.

Your house is built in gold,
With bedrock as its root.
Of cedar beams the roof,
The walls of granite hewn.
I come before Your door,
And fall upon my knee.
Do you let sinners in?
Will You open to me?
My name’s above the door.
O Lord, how could it be?
When I was yet in sin,
You built Your house for me?