CHAYA: Music

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• MP3 play whole song, lo-fi (modem)

AMERICA
(Chaya Pitcher)
Oh beautiful, for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountains majesty
Above the fruited plain

America . . America . . .
God shed His grace on thee!!
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.

But there’s no such thing as brotherhood anymore.
Because America has let her sin run free.
And her shining sea must cry,
As she looks in her creators eyes,
And sees so much love but no more hope
And those spacious skies have seen it all
Here in America. . .
In this great land that used to rest upon God’s Word.
But I fear that we have let our hearts grow cold
And all that’s left within is sin
And soon those mountains will cry,
“Holy is our Majesty”
And they’ll be all that’s left to
Praise His holy name. . .
Unless our hearts turn back to Christ
America . . . I fear that this is what we’ll sing

America. . . America . . .
Chirst shed His blood for thee
But, God, don’t expect our faithfulness
Cause we’re as dead as we can be. . .