WHAT MEAN THESE STONES?
Land of my fathers,
how I long to return,
to touch thy earth,
and find again thy sacred paths,
well-walked with the Gospel of Peace,
veiled now in the shadow of mediocrity.
'What mean these stones'
which beset thy coastline,
who in twisted agony cry out
in praise and supplication of Him
and the renewal of the faith
that bled to secure them there?
Yet we would walk again
thy sacred paths,
repair thy ancient ruins,
restore thy broken altars,
raise up the foundations
of many generations.
Hear this, you lands of the South
who hold many in captivity
by your empty words
and well-worn myths,
who neglect to see justice
for the poor, the widow,
the fatherless.
Look to the North -
for lo your Redeemer comes,
clothed in the poverty of the few
who dare to speak His name,
without vanity,
in a whisper,
lest the earth should tremble
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord.
Poor of Yahweh, arise,
take up the ancient mantle
which has awaited your day;
clothe yourselves within its humility,
for you have been set
as a stumbling block for many.
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