A mother lays her children against her breast,
She has no home for their heads to rest;
She can only dream to have the best
On a far off distant shore.

On a distant shore some try to flee
From a cruel dictator’s captivity;
They long someday to be free
On a far off distant shore.

In another land many find their fate,
As they bow their heads in humble faith;
To pray they do not hesitate
And die on a distant shore.

On a distant shore a battle cry;
So some might live, some must die;
On a battlefield a loved one lies
On a far off distant shore.

On our own shore a mother waits,
With her children for her mate;
Gone off to war with the faith
He’ll return from the distant shore.

On the sands beyond where we see,
Our men will fight to set some free;
They contend for another’s liberty
On a far off distant shore.

They go without a second thought,
To defend the lives of who have naught;
Their deaths the price freedom bought
To save those on a distant shore.

On a cold street a beggar pleads,
For someone’s kind hospitality;
No one has time to fulfill his need,
On a not so distant shore.

A man with children at home unfed;
He has no want to buy them bread;
He would rather have his drugs instead,
On our nation’s shore.

A man self-indulgent with money and fame;
Busy racing his foolish game,
And a mistress from another name,
On our nation’s shore.

His wife at home lonely and lost;
For his sin she will pay the cost;
Her love at the roadside tossed,
On our nation’s shore.

A father to a mother pleads,
To save their child, she does not “need”;
The unborn child has not one liberty,
On our nation’s shore.

This choice is for her own “sanity,”
There fore this so called unplanned pregnancy,
Is discarded into a garbage heap
On our nation’s shore.

We parade our sins and our lusts,
And still proclaim “In God We Trust,”
As we trample God’s word in the dust
Of our nation’s shore.

Buzzards circle round, in the sky,
Waiting patiently for us all to die,
By our own hands. But why,
On our nation’s shore?

If this world was filled with peace,
What a wonderful place to be;
We would not look to God and plead;
Deliver us to Your shore.

We make our laws and our creeds;
Our land ruled with hypocrisy;
I pray Dear God help us please!
Rapture us to Your Shore!

Soon we’ll hear a trumpet sound
That bids those in Christ, gather round,
And raise the Saints that lie in the ground;
He’ll gather us on the shore.

Those that feared famine and war,
Will feel heartache and pain no more;
We will reign with Jesus Christ our Lord,
On that not so distant shore.

Only then will we find rest,
And have true peace and happiness;
Those who have suffered will be blessed,
On our Savior’s shore.

We’ll bow down on bended knee,
Tears and suffering will no longer be,
As we worship by the crystal sea,
On Heaven’s glorious shore.

We all need to get on our knees and pray that John McCain is elected. Obama will do nothing to end this evil.

What about the baby at tiller’s “clinic?” Any charges against what’s her name?