Like wondering souls through the desert my people long for water_
They thirst for the fountain of refreshing, yet fail to find their way_
They long for the journey, but seek not my redeeming grace.
Their hand is to the plow_
but their face is not towards my plan.
Their own fields they plant with their own seed_
Drought and desert is all they will receive.
They thirst for the fountain of refreshing, yet fail to find their way_
They long for the journey, but seek not my redeeming grace.
Their hand is to the plow_
but their face is not towards my plan.
Their own fields they plant with their own seed_
Drought and desert is all they will receive.
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