Her golden tears began to roll
displaying the bitterness in her soul.
Torn apart and ripped asunder
by wily men who claimed to love her.
Great pain and anguish clothed her eyes,
those “men of God” she despised.
With flattery they spoke their words.
Smoothly, softly crowds were stirred.
To some these men were angelic breed,
but they practiced their craft and were deceived.
Many believers led astray,
so sad their wails on Judgment Day.
But, some resisted and heard her call,
those gospel preachers who refused to fall.
For Christ and His church, they mounted their steeds,
heralding His word across land and seas.
With fervent stride they spread the news.
The bride of Christ has been abused.
Their words like wildfire, not contained,
echoed across both hills and range.
Restore the church, the bride of Christ,
No man blaspheme the Savior’s wife.
Not content sitting by,
Christians sounded the battle cry.
Take your sword, take your shield;
it’s His word, and you must yield.
Keep her spotless, keep her pure.
Fight forever, we must endure.
God’s own truth put those to shame,
those who cursed her holy name.
Gospel preachers from near and far
Stood firm and true, exacting the bar.
Her golden eyes no longer cried,
that spotless church, for which the savior died.