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Mourning Without The Sun

Thy Will Be Done

Seated within the ashes
Reflecting on my afflictions
Righteously I scrape my flesh
This my divine tribulation

Without curse upon the lips
Though all of my bones burn with heat
As a harp turned to mourning
Into the voice of them that weep

This is the mourning without the sun
A cry into congregation
Without the sun

Those that plow inequity
Forever the first to deceive
So quick to take what's given
Turn their backs when evils received

I have held my tongue
Never reproached you
Divine providence
I will not be moved

Absolved through these afflictions.