Our Babylon
The darkest times still harbor hope
And weakest wills conceal a way,
A path forgotten, choked, untried,
A torch untouched by dismal days.
From ruins rank and unredeemed
A phoenix can appear, hold sway,
Misty mournings, though amassed,
May yet relent, admit the day.
A righteous branch arose anon,
Though Judah had been captive, slaved,
Our Babylon has prison doors
Whose locks release when God invades.
“The days are coming,” declares the LORD,
“when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch,
a King who will reign wisely
and do what is just and right in the land.
In his days Judah will be saved
and Israel will live in safety.
This is the name by which he will be called: