(Dm)Oh,

oh, deep (F)wa ter,

(Dm)black

and cold (C)like the (F)night.

I (Bb)stand with arms wide o pen,

I’ve (F)run a twist ed mile.

I’m a stran ger

in the (C)eyes

of the Mak er.

I (Dm)could not see

for the (C)seen fog in my (F)eyes.

ters

And I (Dm)could not feel

for the (C)feel in my (F)life.

From a (Bb)cross the great di vide,

in the dis tance I ver saw a light.

den,

Jean Bap tiste

walk ing (C)to me

with the Mak er.

So my (Dm)bod y

is bent and bro ken

by long

and dan g’rous sleep.

Well, I can’t work

the fields of (C)A bra ham

and (F)turn my head a way.

I’m not a stran ger

in the (C)hands

of the Mak er.

Broth er ing

in the (C)eyes

of the Mak er,

oh, (Bb)burn ing

in the (C)eyes

of the Mak er.