On
earth where only few have trod,
Where
ancients once possessed,
Remains
the remnant of their lot
Lost
in the wilderness.
Their
footprints pack the dusty road
Where
not a car distressed,
Upon
their backs they bear their load,
Lost
in the wilderness.
The
sunshine knows their sweat-bathed brow,
Though
others gaily dress,
To
make their meat they humbly plow,
Lost
in the wilderness.
They
live a meager entity
With
sacred faithfulness,
Devoted
to their deities,
Lost
in the wilderness.
And
one by one they cease to be,
Unknown
by righteousness,
Their
souls for which no man will plea,
Lost
in the wilderness.
Will
you not heed the sounding cry
To
light their deep darkness,
And
go unto those forlorn souls
Lost
in the wilderness?
Proclaim
to them the glorious Word
Of
hope and great forgiveness,
That
they may praise the One True Lord,
Even in the wilderness.
Even in the wilderness.
Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2015
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