American Lament: Can A Nation In Moral Decline Also Vote Itself Into Oblivion?

American lament: can a nation in moral decline also vote itself into oblivion?

Ah, there's the question. And the simplest, straightest answer is the most obvious. Since everything in life is the outcome of choices for individuals, great nations, and for average nations, for falling nations, the answer is always yes, based on the choices their people make.

But we must keep in mind that making no choice at all turns out to be a choice, considering the recent outcome in New York City and in the state of Maine.

It would be great if we could laugh when we see that the people in New York City, who were too lazy to get up and vote, have allowed those who have no ability to understand where the city is going to get up to vote. Now everybody's involved in explaining the dangers of communism and socialism. Shouldn't the subject matter be the dangers of political laziness?

How easy it would be to just ignore what's happening to our nation, like so many others, like New Yorkers, but God has placed it in the hearts of true believers to care about not just themselves, their loved ones, or their families, but our entire state, their communities, and yes, our nation.

We call out, we cry out, urged by the power of God's Holy Spirit, to warn people and call them to repentance, like the apostles and prophets and patriarchs of old times.

It is that compunction that we are given, a burden laid upon us by the Holy Spirit that caused me to write, many, many years ago, this particular song.

American Lament

Many tall mountains, many long valleys
Many's the White Plains, that stretch out so far
All deep flowing rivers, rise cresting to meet me
Two shimmering oceans, with soft sandy shore

But this land is not my land, this home is not my home
For I've never yet been there, not now or before

Darkly thick of the woodlands, the tall trees are bending
From beyond the soft west wind, rolls the wave to the shore
Free flies the eagle, free-rolling blue skies
On high still the master, of all he surveys

Her people have proud eyes, all resting so carefree
They have left their strong towers, passing on to and fro
All beauty before them, great mountains and rivers
Yet groping like blind men, who can't find the door

Bard Prophet and Poet, sing haply their bright songs
But the heart that is searching, can feel something's wrong
To pierce through the dark clouds, the hearts made to wonder
But to grow into greatness, the heart's made to cry

Child mutilation, sexual perversion, political confusion, and disgraceful behaviors against all righteous and legitimate authority are why I penned this most poignant line in this song.

“Yet groping like blind men, who can't find the door”

We are at 250 years. How much further can we go without change?