The ever loving Lord

Thinking this day about the love He have for us

That He wasted his life for us

I can see it drop, the royal blood

I can hear Him scream, our loyal Lord

He nearly wished it was not to be

Let your will oh father be done, for me

He loves every creature

That He died premature

He is Jesus

And His case was serious

Please father, He plead for us in heaven

Even when we were as selfish as raven

He came to us just to carry our burden

And feed us when there is not a farthing

He brought us back to the lost garden

Across the sea, He leads us over Jordan

But our hearts are filled with things modern

Now I seek His pardon

That I may be with Him in zion.

By J_amaze.

posted from Bloggeroid

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Music Album: Frankincense by Frank Edwards

Frank Edward's Biography:

Song lyrics and Download: Ayamma by Frank Edward

Em, oh Ayelelele ma ma... Chorus: Jesus, I mara mma eh Eze Jesus, I bu sor mma eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Okwa ihe ikwuru ka I ga emem Ayamm eh eh, ewo Onye oma mara mma eh Jesus, I mara mma eh Eze Jesus, I bu sor mma eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga emem Ayamm eh eh Onye oma mara mma eh Verse 1: Mmm, make I tell you something Biko getenu mu nti This my God na helele Im name na agidigba Everyday He dey do me something, oya Oya see me counting, eh I no fit count oh Because even if I have a million years I no fit count wetin you dey do for me oh Na because of me they nailed you on the cross This love, this love, this love Oh, oh oh oh Chorus: Jesus, I mara mma eh Eze Jesus, I bu sor mma eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamm eh eh Onye oma mara mma eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma eh eh Ihe ikwuru ka I ga eme Ayamma ...

Within the last of the tomb

Within the last of the tomb Are fresh and quick sand The hairs rough and needed comb Whom the owners sought for a land When bitterness taste like it is from honeycomb Men stood and roll their last band Not of victory but cry of a lost womb Of a child who was at hand Those left behind blasted by a bomb Their remains soon would turn manure sold for few rand Within the last of the tomb Are bodies which testify failure of a magic wand. By J_amaze.

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