The Ground Cries Out

O Lord, look down upon America,
our once fair and beautiful land,
and forgive us our sins.
Remember, O Lord, how our ancestors
Fought the Perils of the sea,
to come to this great land,
Made by Your own Hands.
How the battle was fought
and the freedom was bought,
With the blood of our own dear son
Yet not, we bow in humble grief and sorrow
As our own babies are needlessly aborted and buried in the deep.
O, how we do weep.
And the ground cries out,
while motherless mothers mourn,
For the emptiness now felt,
in the depths of their own souls
For the loss of the child, who would have been,
And now is no more.
Forgive us, O Lord,
We started so well.
Our intentions were good,
But O, how we fell.
Return us, O Lord
to the righteous way.
And once again, please Lord,
Bless America to stand tall,
In righteousness and in honor,
And teach us once more,
Your ways, we pray. Amen.

by Joan Butler Crenshaw

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