Would the rain, the frozen rain
Be as cold upon your forehead
As the tears that plough your beaten face again
Would the rain
Could your hands, your grubby hands
Pull your coat around your shoulder
Steel yourself against the weather of the day
Could your hands
Here I stand
Just the same
Jesus do these hands still feel the rain
Here we go, winter long
Like sun bleeds down the valley
Or a black and oily river moves so slow
Here we go
Here I stand
Just the same
Jesus do these hands still feel the rain
Here I stand
Just the same
Jesus do your hands still feel the rain
