How long, O Lord, will you allow death to bear its ugly head?
How long will you let daughters bury their mothers, fathers their sons.
Grown men turn away from the casket in disbelief.
Mothers fall on their knees, helpless before their lifeless infants.
Their youngest sons walk into battle before other other mothers' sons.
The robe of righteousness is tattered from the millions it has covered,
The color of the embroidered cross grows faint.
Your body has become tasteless.
With every shovel of dirt your presence is hidden.
The world mocks the hopeful cries of your children.
Is it any wonder that the confidence of your children fades?
How long will you appear distant from the war this world wages?
We fight death with every ounce we have,
Yet are we crushed by the power you have granted it.
When death consumes those closest too us,
We proclaim your promise that it has no sting,
Yet deep wounds call into question the reality of our hope.
The world of the deceiver becomes believable.
How long, Oh Lord will you grant him reign?
When will fulfillment come -
The promise of two millennia?
Do not tarry.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus.