We are gathered in cathedrals on a Sunday
We are shrouded in our pride and lust's despair
We have heard that You said, 'Go to where your hearts once were'
Trusting we'd arrive to find You there

We have known the empty senses of a funeral
We are haunted by the promises of death
We have asked to see Your face and noticed nothing
But a well timed honest smile from a friend

Oh, we of little faith
Oh, You of stubborn grace

We are the beggars, we are the beggars
We are the beggars at the foot of God's door

We have grown cold to the kisses of our lovers
We have rolled the windows up and driven through
The forests of the autumn, the innocence of snow
Metaphor of Jesus in the dew

We have known the heated p***ion of the cold night
We have sold ourselves to everything we hate
We're hypocrites and politicians running from a fight
We've cheated on a very jealous mate

Oh, we of little faith
Oh, You of stubborn grace

We are the beggars, we are the beggars
We are the beggars at the foot of God's door

We've known, we've known
We've known the pain of loving in a dying world
And our lies have made us angry at the truth
But Cinderella's slipper fits us perfectly
And somehow we're made royalty with You
Royalty with You, royalty

We are the beggars, we are the beggars
We are the beggars at the foot of God's door
We are, we are, we are, we are
We are the beggars at the foot of God's door
[Incomprehensible]