[Intro - single piano chord ringing, vocal entering close and weary]
There was a girl
Who couldn't sleep at twenty-three
She had a notebook by the bed
And every night she wrote the question down
Am I really?

[Verse 1 - close vocal, conversational, list of disciplines]
She kept a list of every Sunday she felt nothing
She kept a list of every prayer she couldn't finish
She had a journal full of self-suspicion
And a Bible underlined in three different colors
She read Edwards on the affections
She read Owen on the mortification of sin
She did the work
She did all of the work
And every night she wrote the question down
Am I really?

[Pre-Chorus - cello entering, build]
And the pastor said examine
And the deacon said examine
And the small group said examine
Until the examining became the faith
And the faith was the examining
And she could not tell the difference

[Chorus - haunted, building, soft lift to relative major]
Am I really?
Am I really?
Am I really His or am I fooling myself?
Am I really?
Am I really?
Have I done enough to know that I am known?

[Verse 2 - the sermons feeding the treadmill]
She heard the harder-softer dynamic preached every week
If grace makes you joyful, you didn't really get it
If grace makes you confident, you didn't really get it
If grace makes you rest, you didn't really get it
You had to come back trembling
You had to come back uncertain
You had to come back asking the same question
And the question was the proof you were lost

[Pre-Chorus]
And the pastor said examine
And the deacon said examine
And the small group said examine
Until the examining was a prison
And the prison was the faith
And she could not tell the difference

[Chorus]
Am I really?
Am I really?
Am I really His or am I fooling myself?
Am I really?
Am I really?
Have I done enough to know that I am known?

[Verse 3 - the turn, vocal closer, the cessation]
She stopped writing one day
She didn't decide to stop
She just stopped
And in the silence she heard a different question
Not *am I really His?*
But *is He really mine?*
The answer came back from a hill
The hill was older than her doubt
The answer had been there the whole time
The whole time she was asking the wrong question

[Bridge - sparse, cello swelling, vocal close, harmonica entering]
The question was the wrong way around
She was asking if she was His
But He had said it on the cross
*Yes*
Before she was born
*Yes*
Before she could ask the question
*Yes*
And the question dissolved
Because the answer was older than the asking

[Final Chorus - opening up, vocal harmonies, the question turned around]
Not am I really His
He is really mine
Not am I really His
He is really mine
The hill answered before I asked
The cross answered before I doubted
The Author answered before I was born
And the question is at peace

[Outro - piano settling, vocal stacks fading, harmonica trailing]
He is really mine
He is really mine
The hill is older than the doubt
He is really mine