Ev'ry desolate ground, we harrow,
Though constrained on ev'ry way - wide and
Hit by ev'ry weapon: bow and arrow,
Not know'n what await us on the morrow.
One thing we know - joy afta the sorrow.
We ain't d first to be accused,
The fathers b4 us, they abused;
Their preachings - they refused;
More so, their lives, they diffused.
We do not live high and mighty,
But d world sees us guile and guilty,
To them, we are rags and filthy;
They hate us - kill us - sheer cruelty.
In this gospel herein we are charged,
Going all out - God's Kingdom to enlarge.
The truth in our bellies we conceive,
It's from d Lord we receive
And we do no one deceive.