Song of the Abased

Song of the Abased

by Tim Reed

We reach out from the sackcloth and the ashes

From the pit of the grave, we emerge

We are called to the invisible path of Faith

We can't deny the purpose for which we've been made

Is what we see truly all there is?

Or are we living our lives in a world not our own?

Pressed down, we are crushed, torn, and battered

with our faith that as a pauper, we will wear a crown

Despised, hated, and rejected - we hold a thread unseen by all

This faith we have will never be easy,

but hold we must, no matter how low we fall.

Falling, we rise.

Dying, we live.

Dead, we arise.

Cursed - we live again. 

We reach out from the sackcloth and the ashes

From the pit of the grave, we emerge

We are called to the invisible path of Faith

We can't deny the purpose for which we've been made

How can we truly go on living,

when all we have is ripped away?

How can we cope with such great sorrow,

when all are are is fallen away? 

These flames of doubt tear at our being

but they've forgotten that their day is Near.

Through the clouds, in crimson path descending

on a Steed as white as Snow

Will come our King, the victory shout resounding

All doubt will Cease - no more crying now.

Falling, we rise.

Dying, we live.

Dead, we arise.

Cursed - we live again. 

We reached out from the sackcloth and the ashes

from the pit of the grave, we Emerged

We held fast - sure is our Faith

We Behold the Purpose for which we've been Made

Fallen, we rose

Dying, we lived

Dead, we arose

Cursed - we live again.