We say that we would do whatever it takes to see revival come.
Then we make no room to seek His glory, or to seek His will be done:
‘Hallowed be Your name,’
But not more than my sleep,
Not more than my comfort,
And not more than my idle dreams.
‘Your kingdom come,’
We pray alone,
Not two or more, just the one,
In the comfort of our homes.
‘Your will be done!’
We cry to God,
With tears running down our cheeks,
But His will is this:
‘Brothers and sister, never cease to meet.’
And meeting we suppose we do,
Every Sunday, together at church.
Then we return to our isolation,
But that’s not how His kingdom works.
We say we want revival,
But that’s as far as it ever goes.
We do not seek, we do not sacrifice,
We do not gather in our homes.
The desire has not pierced our hearts,
This is clear to know,
For sleep and food and TV shows
Are still the masters of our souls.
Rising early in the morning,
Making time and space to pray,
Even wearied to their bones,
They would commit to Him the day.
With fasting and persistence,
With passion, faith and desire,
Cramped, desperate, and united,
That was when they saw God’s fire.
If the desire had really gripped us,
I’m sure we would find,
That we would act the same,
Truly giving up our lives.