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Praying Hands

A Lament for the Church in Covid 19

A Lament for the church in Covid 19

Based on 2 Samuel 1 v 17 – 27

Tell it not in Gath,

Proclaim it not in Ashkelon,

For the world might laugh

At a church that’s fallen silent

Its pews standing empty,

Its hymn books gathering dust,

As the weeds grow tall

Outside the chapel doors.

No clear gospel voice

Penetrates our nation’s darkness,

The world looks in vain:

Has the church no word of comfort?

Has she suddenly gone dumb?

Has she no bold message?

As the weeds grow tall

Outside the chapel doors.

Our eyes fill with tears,

Thousands dying every day,

Struggling to breathe,

Their bodies waste away

Tears of grief, tears of anger,

Helpless we look on

As the weeds grow tall

Outside the chapel doors. 

Following  the news,

Watching the numbers climb so high,

Each one is a soul

Returned to the God who gave it.

Have they heard the gospel?

Do they know the Saviour?

As the weeds grow tall

Outside the chapel doors.

Each Sunday we watch,

Safe in the comfort of our homes,

An empty chapel

The Communion Table is bare,

No voices singing

No hearts praising God

Just the weeds growing tall

Outside the chapel doors.

Hearts full to bursting,

Remembering what we have lost:

Sunday School singing;

Laughter and chatter in the crèche;

Teeny Tots playing;

Girls at their crafting;

And fellowship halted

Inside the chapel doors. 

O Lord, have mercy!

For your Son is our only hope.

We have all gone astray,

Not counting your worship precious

Too much like the world,

Too little like your Son,

Is that why we are now

Outside the chapel doors?

But we do have hope,

Our tears of grief will fade away,

For you are gracious

Your love deep as the ocean

Our sins they are many,

Your grace is greater still.

And soon we will praise you,

Inside the chapel doors.