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
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