There is a time, when time stands still
And in that moment, we still feel
That we have lost, somehow not found
The world beyond this hallowed ground.
And when we seek to put our hands
Forth in reach for woman and man,
We do so stretch and make our might
That through the days, we feel their plight.
It seems to be, with furrowed brow,
We take their pains, on us, somehow
Not knowing that He hears their cries
And wishes us release their lives.
Across the wasteland, the Lord does seek
To fill the holes, your heart does keep.
And in the midst of life’s last breath,
You will see how much He’s met.
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