Firstborn

Children I have reared and raised them
But they have revolted and chose rebellion
An ox knows it’s owner and a donkey it’s masters den
But Israel does not know they do not understand

Is this not My chosen?
Is not all My emotion tied up in them?
All day long I stretch out My hand
But they do not see nor comprehend

Oh that my eyes were a fountain of tears
To weep day and night for the slain of Jerusalem
Oh that my head were a waterfall
To join you Lord in the pain of your wayward wife
Oh that I could discern and understand
What you feel when you see her play the harlot with another man
Your husbands fury is drawing near
Israel Your chosen, Israel Your beloved one!

A vineyard I have planted and nourished
To gather the fruits of justice and righteousness
But when I looked behold distress and bloodshed
She must be consumed I will remove her hedge

Behold it is I who wound you
It is also I who will heal you
When I crush I mend
will redeem you Jerusalem

I will redeem you