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The Persecuted Church (A Poem) By Sis. Abigail Ndubueze

Lamentation for the virgin of Israel 

The virgin of Israel is fallen

She shall no more rise

She is forsaken in her land 

And there is none to raise her up 

She went out in thousand 

But returned in hundred 

In hundred she went out 

But returned in tens

Scorched by the sun

Her deliverer on the run

By sackcloth enshrouded 

Her liberty grounded

By the world’s standard and system 

Oh wretched bride that I am

Who can save me from this body of sin?

My lips are parched 

My skin cleave to my bones

The enemy my glory marched

I am like a fallen leaf

When a terrible winds blows 

I am like a thief 

When he is caught

I cannot escape the turmoil 

For it was my companion 

Who threw the first blow at me

But why do I go mourning 

By reason of the oppression 

Of the enemy

With hypocritical feasts they jeered at me

They gave me gall to drink

Just like they gave my Lord too

I watched as she emerged 

Gloriously in white arrayed

Her face with glory and beauty adorned 

Sapphire, agates, carbuncle, gold

But for nought she is now sold

Who was once in royalty clad

But now wears a long face, drawn, sad

The crowd did jeer at her

For trusting and loving her Lord so

But mute, she has no answer

For trusting and loving her Lord so

Now I see her rise

Despite the jeers and stones thrown 

She rises, a new path known

We are killed all day long 

Like sheep to the slaughter 

Onward she goes never to falter.

Written by Sis. Abigail Ndubueze (Team Watchmen)

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