The Sacred Architecture of a Cry: On Bliss’s “My God”
In the quiet, cavernous space that gospel music at its purest inhabits, Bliss’s “My God” arrives not as an arrival, but as a kneeling. Released on a winter’s dawn in 2026, the single is a masterclass in spiritual minimalism, where every earnest melody and prayer-soaked lyric serves not to ornament, but to excavate. This is worship stripped to its essence: a scaffold of hushed piano and yearning vocals upon which the soul can climb. Bliss has always traded in reverence, but here, she architects a sacred intimacy so palpable it feels less like a song and more like the very atmosphere of surrender. The track is a deliberate, gentle dismantling of performance, inviting the listener into that vulnerable hollow where faith sheds its eloquent rhetoric and becomes, simply, a sustained and trusting exhalation—a cry placed into divine hands.
This offering is no isolated hymn, but a deepening vein in the consistent, radiant catalogue Bliss has been building—a discography that functions as a spiritual journal pointing steadfastly heavenward. From the declarative joy of “Blessed and Sanctified” to the adorative echoes of “Glory 2 Your Name,” her work has consistently married personal devotion with universal exaltation. “My God” is the logical, beautiful next step: a song crafted not for the stage, but for the shadowed corner of a room; not to be merely heard, but to be inhabited and prayed. In this act, Bliss does more than share music; she provides a lexicon for the soul’s quietest, most desperate conversations, reminding us that the deepest worship is often built not from triumph, but from the profound, whispered dependency of a single, staggering truth: “You are my God.”
Stream mp3 Song Here
