Dá-me Tua Graça

Poor is that look
That enchants and captivates
In things that rust corrodes
I do not do the good I want
But the evil I do not want
I do what I hate

I put my hope in you
For when I feel weak
Then I am strong

My support is the Lord
My sustenance is you, Lord
Without your grace, no one is strong
No one is holy

Give me your grace
Give me your grace
Give me your grace, my beloved