Dear Heaven, our dearest Comfort,
I write not of the sorrow we now drink,
Nor the tears that stained our blessed soil.
I write of a nation You called Your own,
The one You adorned with abundance.
A land where You rise the sun upon
To kiss its green feet,
Where You caused rivers to dance through valleys,
And the earth hides treasures like an hen hiding its chicks
from her enemies.
You laid the blessing of abundant oil beneath her soil,
Gold within her mighty hills.
You brought down minds sharp like a knife
To lay in, to change the world.
You placed songs like birds in her voice,
Strength in her bones,
And You wrapped our hearts with hope, knowing
No hate.
You clothed us with abundance and strength.
How did these clothes get stripped away from us?
DAY 1