Song parody of
Libya
by John Yany
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Jesus come and find yourself a Libyan bride
Come and make her yours, dressed in gold and white
For this wedding feast call from North and South
"Libya shall be free! Spirit end this drought!"
Raise up the valleys and bring low the pride
A pathway for Yahweh
To heal the wounds of war
To break the yoke, my Lord
You shed your blood and tears
For Simon of Cyrene
Libya shall be free
I speak a mystery, the desert we now see
The word of God in power, can change it to be green
And though this is land dry I know and I believe
If we pray and sow in tears we shall one day gladly reap
Breakthrough is coming, this I believe
My friend, though it tarry, we will wait and we will pray
For Jesus to make a way
God of nations come I know you gave the Son
For tribes, and peoples, tongues, my heart it prays and longs
I know you will not fail, before your throne to make
A song of praise to rise, from every nation tribe
And after all these tears, I see Libya in the feast
To heal the wounds of war, to break the yoke, my Lord
You shed your blood and tears, for Simon of Cyrene
Libya shall be free
Jesus come and find yourself a Libyan bride
Come and make her yours, dressed in gold and white
For this wedding feast call from North and South
"Libya shall be free! Spirit end this drought!"
Raise up the valleys and bring low the pride
A pathway for Yahweh
To heal the wounds of war
To break the yoke, my Lord
You shed your blood and tears
For Simon of Cyrene
Libya shall be free
I speak a mystery, the desert we now see
The word of God in power, can change it to be green
And though this is land dry I know and I believe
If we pray and sow in tears we shall one day gladly reap
Breakthrough is coming, this I believe
My friend, though it tarry, we will wait and we will pray
For Jesus to make a way
God of nations come I know you gave the Son
For tribes, and peoples, tongues, my heart it prays and longs
I know you will not fail, before your throne to make
A song of praise to rise, from every nation tribe
And after all these tears, I see Libya in the feast
To heal the wounds of war, to break the yoke, my Lord
You shed your blood and tears, for Simon of Cyrene
Libya shall be free
