A sound of worship

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A fortress we are made;

Through the mounting praise 

We have raised

To the triune canonical lord.

Whose hands have raised our lives.


By one man we are beaten 

By another, we have risen 

In his heart, he lifts the unsound soul

Fasten to the boundless pit again 

At a priceless sinner prided pain.


Soft and slowly; mundane and strong,

Solo and brass, chord and string;

The heart that's bruised is here to sing,

New worship, of a new age.


Ayeni Taiwo

©2022


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