The Heart Of The Righteous

We hanged our harps, upon the willows..

 In the midst of deep despair..

For how could we play our instruments..

 Where peace was absent and rare...

Our hearts were sad and our countenance bare..

For the songs of praise, were written in tears.

The roof of our mouths, were absent from mirth..

For we were saddened and treated like dirt.

In a land so strange, we were bound in chains..

Remembering not, our fathers own pains.

Like steel in the dust, we were hardened by fear..

Gathered together, though worn out with care.

In our low estate, we prayed to the Lord..

For mercy to shoulder, our heritage and cord.

Food to be given, when hunger roared..

In a land of misfortune, were eaten by sword.

In the day when we cried, grew an acorn tree..

With branches of favour, for captives to see.

In the midst of trouble, came an outstretched hand..

To have and to hold.. and loosen our band.

The perfection of will, where praise raised its head..

Came gratitude for glory, for words that were said.

Though darkness and shadows, were both friend and foe..

The heart of the righteous, were equipped to grow.