Alas, alas for you,
Lawyers and pharisees
Hypocrites that you be
Searching for
We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on
Out of the ruins and rubble,
Out of the smoke,
Out of
Where are you going?
Where are you going?
Can you take me
I can see a swath of sinners settin' yonder
And they're
On the willows, there
We hung up our lyres
For our captors
When wilt thou save the people?
Oh God of mercy, when?
Not
Father, hear thy children's call
Humbly at thy feet we fall
Prodigals
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