You are the land of my birth
I am the son of thy soil
Among the hundreds of thy tribes
Idoma my own mother tongue
Niger-Area! The trigger of Africa
Bestowed with beauty and wealth.
Our rebellious brought us wicked rulers
Many acquired ill-gotten wealth
Displayed partiality in judgments
Leading many through evil path
And ever roaring like a hungry bear
Our land has not prospered.
You were once pictured to be
Highly corrupt and Godless
Lousy as a shameless harlot
Friends of Idolaters, ritualists and murderers
Embracing each other in broad day light
And almost initiating the faithless saints.
But for the sword of the apostolic
What hope hath thee?
When thy seed ‘great and small’ sinned alike
Heartlessly maiming in cold-blood
Robbing widowers to pay widows
Pampering the orphans to convert their inheritance.
Hence forth I have chosen
To know thee not after thy flesh
You’ve experience the ‘new birth’
Redeemed by ‘his’ mercy
Your cunning ways are forgiven
Zion is thy second ‘new’ name.
Nigeria! The shining star!
Thy light brightened from the hill top
Thy salt, no longer to lose any flavor
Thy station positioned
For those with a destiny to fulfill
Thy land, temporary, accommodating the ‘citizens’ of Heaven.
