Lord have mercy on me
Take my cold heart and break it open
Set me free from my indifference
We are surrounded by terror
We are reminded of our smallness
Our insignificance
We are dust and we will go back to dust
Why do the wicked flourish?
The rich remain privileged
Why do the poor get downtrodden?
Stamped upon and forgotten
Discarded, abused, used
The Lord soars above and searches
Who will answer for the state of our land?
Nothing is hidden from our God
No one is unseen
He sees all
He knows all
We cannot pretend with our God
Where will we be found
With the wicked, indifferent?
Or with the broken, in need of His love?
May I be found in need of You
May I be found crying for the broken
May I be found aware of my brokenness
May I be found on my knees before the Most High
Waiting on Him to heal our land
Lord have mercy on me
Take my cold heart and break it open
Photo by Amaury Gutierrez on Unsplash
