And the Lord will wipe the tear from every cheek
The shadow of a mourning veil,
Once folded, put aside,
Now lays across these fields of loss;
These places where they died.
The innocent no longer dream
Of Joy in peaceful time.
Now felled in grief, they lie beneath
The horror of the crime.
No hope can breath where hatred
reign,
When fists strike cruel and hard.
And hour by hour, hate grows in
power
And shatters love to shard.
Yet He who sought to comfort
grief,
Who knew the way of pain:
Still comes and stands with
outstretched hands,
Nails hammered in again.
He loves the ones who suffer now,
He sees the ones who kill.
And every tear and every fear,
And every curse so filled with hate,
And every moment filled with
blood,
He holds and feels and takes and
heals,
And waits to wipe from every
cheek
The horror of our hate.