Andrew Peterson Well Done, Good And Faithful
Why has my God, my soul forsook, nor will a smile afford
Thus David once in anguish spoke and thus our dying Lord
Oh it's Your chief delight to dwell among Your praising saints
And yet You hear us groan as well and pity our complaints
Our fathers trusted in Your name and great deliverance found
But He's a worm despised of men who trod him to the ground
Men shake their heads and pass Him by and laugh His soul to scorn
‘In vain He trusts in God', they cry, neglected and forlorn
But You are He who formed His flesh by Your own mighty word
And since He hung upon the breast His hope was in the Lord
Why would His father hide His face when foes stand threatening ‘round
In His dark hour of deep distress and not a helper found
Why, oh why, my God?
Why, oh why, my God?
For the joy set before Him He endured
And is seated at the right hand of the Throne
Well done, good and faithful, well done
Well done, good and faithful One
Behold Your dear One left along with the cruel and the proud
As mighty bulls so fierce and strong, as lions roaring loud
For mirth and hell and sorrows meet to multiply the pain
They nail His hands, they pierce His feet and mock Him yet again
Yet if Your sovereign hand let loose the rage of earth and hell
Why would my Heavenly Father bruise the Son He loved so well?
He prayed in dark Gethsemane, ‘Withhold this bitter cup'
But He resigned His will to Thee and drank the sorrows up
Our Savior cried with David's grief, in groans I waste my breath
Thy hand has brought me down beneath the bitter dust of death
And then He gave His spirit up to trust it in Your hand
His dying flesh reposed in hope, to rise at Your command
Why, oh why, my God?
Why, oh why, my God?
For the joy before Him He endured
And is seated at the right hand of the Throne
Well done, good and faithful, well done
Well done, good and faithful, well done
Well done good and faithful One
