Touch the Hem of God's Robe

I lift up my hands 
And wonder, "if only"
I could touch the hem 
Of God's robe
But He is holy, 
Holy, 
Holy;
I am made of the dust,
Encrusted with sin;
If I could place a seal
Upon my biting tongue
For all of the words 
That have scorched 
People and stung,
In the depths of my heart,
Thoughts would slither still-
A wildness in me
That needs to be crushed,
Crucified, killed
Even Isaiah, 
The prophet, trembled
When God's glory
Filled up the temple
Oh, that I would understand 
And more abundantly grasp
Hone my ears, 
My eyes, unclasp
To see the virgin-born Jesus 
Now high and exalted 
Who, for my sins, atoned
And turn and find healing 
From the Lord Almighty
Who reigns from His
Resplendent throne
---
Referencing Isaiah 6:1-10