Shallow victories are all we care for
The altered veil fills up with blood
Darker visions shroud the canyons
Herded pastures fill with mud.
God won't spare these western wastelands
Fan'in flames of lust and greed
Tilt'in further towards the darkness
Spread'in more of sin's disease.
So call out to distant places
Cause there's a son that wasn't spared
A voice will tell ya he's a com'in
And there's judgment in the air.
There's still time to make things better
There's still time to make things right
If you're ready for the Savior
You'll make it through the longest night.
No one will say he could not see it
As if to look away would make it right
One straight glance into the heavens
Will blind men of fleshly might.
So lean close as angels whisper
Seize this hope beyond yourself
But if you waver in your courage
Mark the place and call for help.
Cause times a'runn'in down the mountain
I see dead bones along the trail
You had better find yourself the Savior
Or your course is marked for hell.
So call out to distant places
I know a son that wasn't spared
A voice will tell ya he's a com'in
And there's judgment in the air.
There's still time to make things better
There's still time to make things right
If you're ready for the Savior
You'll make it through the longest night.
Written by Rhodara Shreve
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