Misc Praise Songs - Canticle of the turning

My s^Emoul cries out with a j^Goyful s^Dhout that the G^God of my h^Emeart is gr^Deat, And my s^Empirit sings of the w^Gondrous th^Dings that you b^Gring to the o^Cnes w^Dho ^Emwait. You ^Gfixed your sight on the ^Amservant's plight, and my w^Geakness you d^Emid not s^Dpurn, So from e^Emast to west shall my ^Gname be b^Dlest. Could the w^Emorld be ab^Cout ^Dto t^Emurn?

My he^Gart shall sing of the ^Amday you bring. Let the f^Gires of your j^Emustice ^Dburn. Wipe ^Emaway all the tears, For the d^Gawn draws n^Dear, And the ^Emworld is a^Cbout ^Dto ^Emturn.

Though^Em I am small, my G^God, my a^Dll, you w^Gork great t^Emhings in ^Dme, And your m^Emercy will last from the d^Gepths of the p^Dast to the e^Gnd of the a^Cge ^Dto ^Embe. Your ^Gvery name puts the p^Amroud to shame, and to th^Gose who would ^Emfor you y^Dearn, You will s^Emhow your might, put the s^Gtrong to ^Dflight, for the w^Emorld is ab^Cout ^Dto t^Emurn.

My he^Gart shall sing of the ^Amday you bring. Let the f^Gires of your j^Emustice ^Dburn. Wipe ^Emaway all the tears, For the d^Gawn draws n^Dear, And the ^Emworld is a^Cbout ^Dto ^Emturn.

From the ^Emhalls of power to the fo^Grtress to^Dwer, not a st^Gone will be l^Emeft on s^Dtone. Let the k^Eming beware for your j^Gustice te^Dars ev'ry t^Gyrant f^Crom h^Dis t^Emhrone. The h^Gungry poor shall w^Ameep no more, for the f^Good they can n^Emever e^Darn; These are t^Emables spread, ev'ry m^Gouth be f^Ded, for the w^Emorld is ab^Cout ^Dto t^Emurn.

My he^Gart shall sing of the ^Amday you bring. Let the f^Gires of your j^Emustice ^Dburn. Wipe ^Emaway all the tears, For the d^Gawn draws n^Dear, And the ^Emworld is a^Cbout ^Dto ^Emturn.

Though the n^Emations rage from ^Gage to ^Dage, we rem^Gember who ^Emholds us f^Dast: God's m^Emercy must del^Giver ^Dus from the c^Gonqueror's c^Crush^Ding ^Emgrasp. This s^Gaving word that our f^Amorebears heard is the p^Gromise which h^Emolds us ^Dbound, 'Til the s^Empear and rod can be c^Grushed by G^Dod, who is t^Emurning the wo^Crld a^Dro^Emund.

My he^Gart shall sing of the ^Amday you bring. Let the f^Gires of your j^Emustice ^Dburn. Wipe ^Emaway all the tears, For the d^Gawn draws n^Dear, And the ^Emworld is a^Cbout ^Dto ^Emturn. My he^Gart shall sing of the ^Amday you bring. Let the f^Gires of your j^Emustice ^Dburn. Wipe ^Emaway all the tears, For the d^Gawn draws n^Dear, And the ^Emworld is a^Cbout ^Dto ^Emturn.