Pesecution’s Bitter Irony

By Zeres Vitto

Verse 1

They fled the crowns, the chains, the creeds,

The fires lit by pope and throne.

Across the sea where conscience breathed,

A lamb-like land where faith could grow.

No king but law, no pope nor throne,

No sword to rule the soul of man,

The earth stood wide and swallowed waters

Of persecution from every land.

Chorus

Oh persecution’s bitter irony—

The refuge learned to rule by fear,

The land that healed the wounded free

Now binds the soul it once held dear.

A lamb that lifts its gentle face,

Yet learns the dragon’s tone and cry—

The earth that helped the woman’s seed

Will speak the words that make her die.

Verse 2

Two humble horns, no pope, no king,

No ancient scars of the ...