PRESS ON
We departed to an arrival
Our Shirts cleanly-stained
Routing from a broken Pandal
Yet it was ignorantly-maintained
The interceptive Hypochlorite
Interfered with a gift-bid
Exchanging our believe for His Might
And From Nowhere,
A drop somewhere was everywhere
At no cost, Our shirts attained “The White”
And with His rites, we were made Right.
So delighted
We concurred to follow Him
Raised to the Pinnacle
He Made us a Crown to bear
His bid birthing a hidden Miracle
His gift an opposer to the pandal wear
But In courageous fear
We agreed to serve
Back at us, The environs’ filth beam
The Hypochlorite never departed
And to Him our Shirts bow
His outflows became our Iron
Settled within and around us now
A straightening tool to press on.
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A sanctuary where we behold the countenance of Christ
His Body within us to disperse
Behold, the body of Christ...