The power of You, Lord . . . we do not know
We say, “It is too late . . . there is no hope.”
The deadness tests our faith . . . it’s all we see.
“Where were You, Lord?” we cry . . .
“Look, Lord, Your church has died,”
And You are grieved.
“Did I not say,” You ask,
“That life would come from this?
“That I would have a church
“full of My glory?
“I raise the dead to life!
“Believe My words to you,
“I speak, and up they rise,
“So God is glorified,
“And I am glorified.
“Believe My words, My child!”