Oh Lord

Oh Lord, the refinement and its fire The evils spewed and hurled as a choir Boastful of absurdity as if You aren't witness Plundering righteousness of dignity till it is weakness As we forgive seventy times seven Overcoming offense to still gladly preach heaven And that this they do is a thorn in our flesh But your Grace is sufficiently ever fresh Oh Lord, make that day of reckoning Of all these voices you sent beckoning Even in long-suffering and graceful extension Just a testimony that makes a distinction That it may be known that You live And beyond silver and gold have we much to give Make manifest the Power at work within us And be honored that thou didst thus