Seated on a cloud like the son of man
With a golden crown and a sickle in his hand
He has come to reap the harvest of the earth
Separating sheep from flock of wicked works
What are we guilty of?
We will reap what we sow
What we plant we will grow
In good soil, we are ripe
Let these roots spring to life
As nations have a traitor, the church has enemies
And those who would betray her will have no legacy
They play the part of pastors, while they cry for mans applause
All cut free from the vine, pressed into the wrath of God
What are we guilty of?
What are we capable of? What are we capable of?
Can we change a life?