Upturned faces,
Sorrowful eyes,
Seething mentions,
Unheard cries.

These are the calls of My people,
Surmounting the wails of heartbreak.

Raped prostitutes,
Broke gamblers,
Beaten spouses,
Rebellious children.

These are the forms that they come in:
Not knowing My path to better ways.

Can anyone hear the cry of My children?
Does anyone relate to their worries and pain?
Will my hands and my feet go and seek them?
Alas, they are busy with the busyness of days.

My eyes are filled with much weeping.
My heart sorrows; they’ve stopped dreaming.
Their hope, my great gospel, is preaching,
Under roofs where none of them are sleeping.

Go forth, my resurrected,
Speak encouraging words.

Go for, my redeemed,
Bring them back to me.

Go to the highways,
Scale out the byways,
Broken and wounded,
All bring!

I am ready,
For healing.

I am searching,
For the defeated.

I am seeking,
For the willing.

Go forth!
Hands and feet,
Bring them to me.

So that I may bring them into peace.

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