You
There are many prodigal songs on our city streets they run, searching for shelter.
There are homes broken down, people's hopes have fallen to the ground from failures.
This is an emergency, and there are tears from the saints for the lost and unsaved.
We're crying for them, come back home. We're crying for them, come back home.
Now your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man. Father, we will leave them home.
There are schools full of hatred, even churches have forsaken love and mercy.
May we see this generation and its state of desperation for your glory.
This is an emergency, and there are tears from the saints for the lost and unsaved.
We're crying for them, come back home. We're crying for them, come back home.
Now your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man. Father, we will leave them home. Father, we will leave them home.
Now your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man.
Santa, reach out your hands. Children, in Christ you stand.
Santa, reach out your hands. Children, in Christ you stand.
There are tears from the saints for the lost and unsaved. We're crying for them, come back home.
Now your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man. Father, we will leave them home.
Father, we will leave them home. Now your children will stretch out their hands and pick up the crippled man.
Father, we will leave them home. Father, we will leave them home.
