America

Here is a little medley of songs and psalms and thoughts on America:

And the coal trucks come a runnin' - With their bellies full of coal
And their big wheels hummin' down - This road that lies open
Like the soul of a woman - Who hid the spies who were looking for
The land of the milk and honey.

And this road she is a woman - She was made by a rib
Cut from the sides of these mountains - Oh these great sleeping Adams
Who are lonely even here in paradise - Lonely for somebody to kiss 'em
And I'll sing my song, and I'll sing my song - In the land of my sojourn.

And the lady in the harbor - She still holds her torch out to those huddled masses
Who are yearning for the freedom - That still eludes them
And the immigrants' children see their brightest dreams shattered.

Here on the New Jersey shoreline - In the greed and the glitter of those
High tech casinos - Where some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
And there they stoop in the silence - And there their prayers are still whispered
And I'll sing their song, and I'll sing their song - In the land of my sojourn.

Nobody tells you when you get born here - How much you'll come to love it
And how you'll never belong here - So I'll call you my country
And I'll be lonely for my home - I wish I could take you there with me.
Rich Mullins - "Land of My Sojourn"


"And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America . . . . "
Rich Mullins - "Here in America"


I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven, the Creator of the earth.
Who is like you, oh God?! Who could compare to you?!
You ride on the clouds, you level mountains, you break gates of bronze.
You sit gloriously lifted up on your holy throne, and from there you maintain justice.

What of us, Lord? Who are we that we should be so precious in your sight?
With what have we offered to you that you consider us so much?

Oh America, you are so beautiful. Your lands are so majestic.
Your landscape is so diverse, your land so vibrant and alive.
Your skies are kind, your earth is rich, your waters run hard.
What of your people, oh America? Why are they so distracted?
Why so vain? Why so hurried? What happened to them?
What entered into their thoughts? Why do they rape the land?
Why are they not enjoyers of the land in peace?

God, we do not ask you to come into this. This is no place for you.
And we are ashamed.
We only ask, Jesus, that we could find You. That we could go to where You are.
Disease us, Lord, if You will rid us of our infirmity.
Devil us, Lord, if You would take out our demons.
Deny us, Lord, if we need to meet You in the desert place.
Only let this be, Lord. That your glory is made known.
Only this, Lord. Let your glory be known.


"Could this be the land of the free?"
"Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble?" Lyrics by Martin Smith