A messenger laid facedown in a canal
Our parched mouths gave restoration
Read his letter and it rescued us (it said)
You razed that city to the ground, but I raised the dead!
Your father has redemption, new lungs
And bones to hold him up
There's far too much triumph in your planting
There's far too much speaking in your love
The masses have found the flowing river
And they're welcoming the flood
And this water is fire to the most precious gold
To purify and scrape off the imperfections before it's sold
With praises, hymns, and songs
The oppressed will raise their city made of psalms
The orphaned play their horns, wave palms
The imprisoned have their freedom that is love
Love, love, love
Love!
For love bears all things
Hopes all things
Believes all things
Love endures all things!