In the solemn silence of the Most High
I knelt down in silent meditation
My prayer I hope to mutter
Then suddenly, my heart’s cry gushed out.

When I beheld the body of Christ
Wandering in the canopies of the earth
Searching for satisfaction in naught,
Like the proverbial ostrich
This like a burning hot iron
Breaks my heart in cold blood
And I cry, I cry, I cry hard with tears
Then I call; I call with zeal
God’s people back home
Yet they will not listen.

When I see them further
Clothed in sanctimonious piety,
Yet drunk with the trademark booze of theology
I crumble in total fear.

I cried hard and called
Come home, you wanderers
Church of God, wake up from your sleep,
But, but they will not hear
With ears hard shut with deaf brand glue, they go.

O Lord, come quickly and save your people
Blow once again your fresh wind of revival
Before emptiness feels the air like my grandma’s empty pot.

With grief my heart trembles
In shame my face ashen
Come oh Lord, come quickly
Come oh Lord and give us,
A new revival tide.

Amen.


By Emmanuel K. Dogbevi

Email: edogbevi@hotmail.com