In dark, filthy places, forsaken, forgotten
Our brothers and sisters are paying a price
They will not deny Him to purchase their freedom
For these are the faithful, the martyrs for Christ
Twisted and broken abandoned and beaten
Their bodies confined in unseen sacrifice
But deep in their spirits they know perfect freedom
For they are the ones who've been set free by Christ
From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?"
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Deafening silence, the faithful refusal
To doubt or deny in the presence of man
They lived by His promise before His own Father
That in His kingdom He'll not deny them
From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?"
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
From under the altar the voices are crying
"How long, Lord, 'til You come judge the earth?"
But He'll wrap and redeem them in robes of pure white
For the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Oh, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church
Submitted by keeskees at Tue 03 Dec, 2013 8:29 am