Thy Will Be Done Mourning Without The Sun
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