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In a world that is both dead and dying,
While women weep and children are crying.
Where men abuse and cannot cope
The cry is for writers of hope.
The news that daily bombards our civility
Speaks of war, chaos, and hostility.
The walk we walk is a precarious tightrope
And the call goes out for more writers of hope.
Writers of hope broaden our vision
With glorious words of divinity and mission.
Combined with grace to set the pace.
Oh, where are the writers of hope?
Tenderly he calls for writers to share.
His wondrous message and Cross to bear.
Enflamed by His love, proclaiming His story.
The Blood our balm and His resurrection glory.
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