The Lost Ones
I reach My hand out to the poor, the needy and the ill
I reach My hand to the broken, to save them’s My will
Poor in spirit, faint of heart, I love one and all
My voice a gentile, prodding tone, it is to them I call
I ache to save the lost ones who I created with my Hand
I ache to draw them to Me, that their hearts would understand
I pour My love out like sweet oil, beckoning with my voice
I pour My heart out for their sake waiting to be their choice
I reign on high, I’m Lord of All, I’ve already won the battle
These souls are rightfully mine to take, not abandoned chattel