O my land, if only you could know
the way that leads to peace,
if you could recognise God's hour,
and if your games of life could cease,
then wholeness would be yours, and power
of the Spirit which would make your spirits free,
and your men and girls would dance without a reason,
and your old men tell the visions that they see.
But my land, your heart is set on death,
mistaking it for joy.
The lust of power corrupts your soul,
your golden idols all destroy.
Your people wander lost and helpless,
and the night-time of your soul is dark and long,
and still over all there grows a concrete desert,
and your smoking chimneys choke the children's song.
But my land, the time is not too late
to turn to God again,
and feel the cleansing of his fire,
the soft renewal of his rain.
And we will work to help your turning
and to build a world with peace within its heart,
never ceasing till this world becomes God's Kingdom,
never resting till the day that we depart.