The peaceful harbour lies behind,
the headlands standing guard;
standing strong against the storms,
protecting us from harm.
The towering cliffs speak of the One,
the Rock on whom we stand;
they also speak of those who pray,
the watchmen of the land.
The intercessors bear the brunt,
of every crashing wave;
standing strong upon the Rock,
so many may be saved.
Relentless swells must bend around,
these walls of faithful prayer;
men and women in the breach,
to thwart the devil’s snare!
Injustices and sins they take,
confess them as their own;
repent for those who have no voice,
for mercy from the Throne.
The angel armies hear decrees,
declared by praying tongues;
and like a flood descend upon,
the hordes of lawless ones!
The angels guard and they protect,
bring wisdom from on High;
they minister unto the saints,
and for the meek they fight.
These sentries stand with sword in hand,
equipped to do His will;
but when we’re silent, in the flesh,
they’re disempowered and still!
The headlands crumble under load,
so we must pray for them;
and even more, we join their ranks,
to strengthen their amens.
Yes, every son and daughter’s called,
to pray and make a stand;
to fill the breach in broken walls,
by love and praying hands.
Malcolm Cotton, 2121, used by kind permission.