Where Are They

WHERE ARE THEY? Where are the tear-stained altars that once we used to see, Where people came repenting and weeping there to be? Where are the sawdust trails, the tents and open air, Where the Holy Spirit’s presence could really be felt there? Where are the bold, loud preachers who weren’t afraid to say What sin was without favor, of the straight and narrow way? Where are the old-time singers who weren’t so dignified With clothes that looked like fashions from the world’s sinful pride? Where are the plain, old Bibles that showed their wear and tear From people who would read them and study truths from there? Where are the prayer meetings when in small groups they met And poured their hearts in earnest, not one did they forget? Where are the sold-out Christians who came so faithfully, On Sunday and on Wednesday their faces we would see? Where are all of the workers? And where is tithing still? And where are there just people so eager to do God’s will? Where are they? I just wonder, but yet I know today God told me it was coming; soon it would be that way. If we really want revival in our wicked land today, It’s time we asked these questions—these questions, WHERE ARE THEY? For only will revival, for which we now do lack, Will ever be for real when these things we all bring back.