For oceans of time, the ligaments of Your patience has taken it's stead.
Movements occur, for God once said (and all was).
But now the people You made have forgotten, they lay the valley, corpses dead.
Who is the man bound by his faith?
Will You hold his hand and keep him from the enemy of souls?
Or will his eyes melt like wax with his body as he looks to the hills for Your salvation from an evil world.
“They cry, ‘Harvest time has come and gone, and the summer is over, and still we have not been delivered.’"
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