Of dead things

To Him who makes the dead whole,
Who makes the world grow. 
Will I give my broken soul?

I cannot attain my goal,
For there is a debt I owe,
To Him who makes the dead whole. 

My heart is as black as coal,
But If He can make it like snow 
Will I give my broken soul?

If it is in my control
Should I give up and go?
To Him who makes the dead whole?

If He saves me from this hole
Then promises to never let go,
Will I give my broken soul?

And as I hear the bells toll
There is but one thing I know,
To Him who makes the dead whole
Will I give my broken soul.