Sunday, 1 September 2013

Help me Pretty Lady, Help me

I woke up this morning to a cry:
"Help me Pretty Lady, Help me".

It wrecked my world, it broke my heart and so I am asking, Lord where did that cry come from but in the meantime I have a poem.


We're making excuses for not arising and shining,
We're making excuses for our churches dying,
While there is a call from the lost that is crying,
Help me Pretty Lady, Help me.

We have the light that brings life,
We have the hope to give,
We have the love that is needed,
Help me Pretty Lady, Help me.

There are sheep without shepherds
There are children crying and dying
The desperate hopeless cry that is calling,
Help me Pretty Lady, Help me.