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