With eager eyes we have waited for Him;
We’ve waited for the dawn of our freedom,
When the Messiah would unravel His perfect plan
And should show His holy face
To conquer the sin-filled world.
The pictures in our minds
Have been wrapped in gold
And framed with sapphires:
Trumpet blasts would shake the mountains
As a ladder descended from Heaven;
Phalanx upon phalanx of giant angels
Would march down to earth
And crush the legions of men.
Finally, the King would come,
And use His iron scepter
Like a massive mace,
Striking down the puny imposters
Who call themselves emperors.
Holiness would cleanse the earth
And sin would be no more.
The hand of God would purge the darkness,
Casting the whores into the pits of fire—
Only men, purified and consecrated,
Would be able to approach the Holy Throne
To bow before the Almighty,
With downcast eyes
And trembling hearts.
This was the salvation we waited for;
This was the fiction we had written
With our own hands.
No one could have known
He would come as a baby
In a stable.
No one would have guessed
He would submit to the soldiers
Of the emperors
And die on their cross.
No one would have dreamed,
Not even those with the wildest imaginations,
That loving hands would raise the whore
From the dust,
That the veil itself
Would be shattered,
And God Himself
Would dare to claim sinful men and women
As His sons and daughters.
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