Headlands

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.