Land of the Pilgrims’ pride;
I’m glad they’ll never see.
Babies piled in dumpsters,
Oh, sweet land of liberty;
your house is on the sand.
Our children wander aimlessly
choosing to indulge their lusts,
when God has said abstain
From the teaching of God’s love
and a need to always pray.
We’ve kept God in our temples,
how callous we have grown.
When earth is but His footstool,
and Heaven is His throne.
We’ve voted in a government
that’s rotting at the core,
Appointing Godless Judges;
who throw reason out the door,
Too soft to place a killer
But brave enough to kill a baby
before he leaves the womb
You think that God’s not angry,
that our land’s a moral slum?
How much longer will He wait
before His judgment comes?
How are we to face our God,
from Whom we cannot hide?
What then is left for us to do,
If we who are His children,
will humbly turn and pray;
Then God will hear from Heaven;
and forgive us of our sins,
He’ll heal our sickly land
and those who live within.
But, America the Beautiful,
if you don’t – then you will see,
withdraw His hand from Thee.