My sorrow knows no depth,
On humble knees I've sorely wept...
For the day, and the clay must end,
As we struggle coming round the bend.
So many broken, battered and tossed,
The finished work of Jesus at the cross.
Have we lost site of the vision friend,
Not watching or waiting til the end?
And lest the Lord catch us unaware,
In the web of Satan snare...
I remind myself this very hour,
Of our Lord and Savior's power!
For on that day, every tongue will confess,
Every knee shall bow...
Yet with our heart, we'll be blessed
To be found there now.
Today and ever, where will we stand?
Amongst the mighty angelic band,
Or house of prayer, made den of thieves,
As Satan practices to deceive?
O come Lord Jesus, with grace and mercy,
O wretched men that we are!
Therefore, we need your pity...
Vanity, of vanities, says the Preacher,
All is vanity.
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