When the drummer hit the paddle.

When the drummers hit the paddle
And the singers raise a hymn,
Let the echo of their song for a new land be heard afar off.

When preachers are before the congregation of the righteous,
who've not rebelled against the name of our God,
Let their voices rise beyond the walls of sight.

Let it wake the slumber!
And Quicken the loins of the sluggard!
for in a land wherein was a man of authority were men who used their understanding of the operations of the spirit against the ignorant.

Warriors! when your sword gets blunt do you take it that way to battle?
for I write mysteries that only the brave will understand.

And yes! the ignorant were born,
taught how to till, plant and harvest, yet they were never told the apocalypse of their land.
Sacrifices, Speakings held up the growth of the inhabitants and drew benefits to only members and their generations.

Hold up the light!
Let them shave their hairs.
Take off their garments.
Take off their shoes. For their days of authority are over.

Let this land be New and let this land be strong.
Let this land accept us, and let this land work for us.
Let this land flourish, and let it waters never run dry.
Let the weak find solace here,
let the poor make wealth here,
let the wicked, never find rest here.

Ring the cymbals, hit the drums, and let all instrument be sounded.
For out of this land will proceed men diligent in productivity.
We rise! beyond possible imaginations.
We birth fruitfulness and grow in multiplicity.
Females will be cloth in Royal robes of honour.
For they will soar in strength and sink not in the days of weakness.

No more complain.
For this is your land in front of you
Harvest it!
@ngoenyi
@focusnow