Let me pour forth my heart,
As tears gently roll down my face,
While I stay in God's presence,
For in his presence, my cry is heard;
Fruits of pain they may be,
Emblem of plight they may speak,
But when a tear gently falls,
And rolls down, to my bare feet,
I know I dwell in the presence of a spirit,
Who can dry my tears and answer it all.

Lord! Who created health and wealth,
Look down on this sinful earth,
That decays as the hour pass by;
Let us rise again with the wind,
Like the birds of the phoenix,
Till our wings are strong and wide;
Wide enough to carry us above the tide,
That buffets us on every side,
Into the cradle of your arms, O Lord!
Aye! Into the cradle of your arms, Lord.

O that my fervent cry will ascend
On a pillar of fire with no end,
For our dear memories fade away,
In the face of the woes in our way;
Hands that we can no more shake;
Space that we can no more share;
Brows that we can no more kiss;
Embrace that is no more sweet;
Has strained our relationships,
Cutting deeply into our hearts.

How beastly can virus and pestilence be,
To cripple our civilization this greatly?
To force man into a state of evil,
Just look! Look o Look and you will see,
Watch the mess the world now accept,
Confronted by a plague, but too human to stop it,
So Lord, let your loving grace
Go before this mortal race
With the sign of a torrential rain,
To wash away all our spots and stains.

©Okunola Peace.