God’s promise of entering his rest still stands, so we ought to tremble with fear that some of you might fail to experience it (Hebrews 4:1 NLT)
Sometimes God is revealed through a song. This is one of those times for me. It makes me realize that although we try to always be doing things, our spirit needs to also be able to be still and receive. I get so busy sometimes I forget how good it feels to let someone else witness to me.
Below are the lyrics to Casey Hurt’s Babylon. Sit back, relax and let the song really witness to you. I posted the words only for convinience, but dont spend the whole song reading. Again, we always are doing. Let this post do something for you for a change! Be blessed
Baptize the river with tears until it floods, how many years will it’s banks receive our blood. How many nations will deceive our ranks in occupation ‘til this generation wakes up and shakes off the mud. Begotten not modeled got jobs bottling Molotov cocktails for Babylon, consuming the same. Lost but not forgotten, the desert is hot and awful, but it’s awesome to exclaim- I’m just a pawn in your game crossing the 6th brook. I can’t remember Zion but this fishhook in my heart remembers everything. So let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable ‘til I learn how to sing. And it sounds like-
Down by the river where we sat and wept. That great river, Babylon. That great river we hung our hearts and heads. That great river Babylon. And how can we sing in a foreign land?
Fall on the rock and be broken. Follow me close ye the chosen that knew my voice in the moment that you remember. I am the poetry spoken over a motionless ocean at both the beginning and ending. I’m the inverse. Bring me your cinders. Gather me your kindling timbers, scattered ash and your smoldering embers. And behold, I will send a wind through the trenches they littered with your skeleton splinters- to mend and reassemble your members. Remember. But don’t receive your vision once again from the blind. Repent your senses and administer mine. Oh my children don’t be ignorant of signs of the times when the bitter and resentful shun the gifts and turn to sinister minds. Even this I have intended. It was written- both the vengeance and the vinegar’s mine. When the chrysalis dies, in an instant I’ll be given my most intimate prize- the glitter of my infinite eye.
Down by the river where we sat and wept. That great river, Babylon. That great river we hung our hearts and heads. That great river Babylon.