The shadows of your history
are rising from the grave.
In the hands of David you thought you would stay?
So many years...
So many gods...
He that rules the temples must also rule the sod of
A seed of your destiny was
planted In the stone.
But mountain. never stopped you, from harvesting your own
flower of Israel,
crushed under a cross,
rose again to claim you for His name and His flock.
Darker ages followed you, was
it a Journey of the Light?
Did Mohammed find you in the silence of the night?
No man can say.
The rocks will not speak.
But the blood of believers has sealed the mystery of
Your days are kept in vigils,
your nights are kept inside.
The battle of your holy ghost has sentenced you to die.
Rise up, oh Daughter.
What do you fear?
A God above all others or the coming of the years?