O God of justice
Shield of the helpless
Hear my cry as I call out to Thee
Orphan’s protector
Widow’s defender
Why are such evil ones left roaming free?
Where are the millstones
The slow rot in their bones
Withdraw Thy great mercy, they cease to exist
Why is that mercy shown
Their deeds of torment grown
Piling up victims too weak to resist?
Yet holy art Thou
Surely they will bow
Justice shall flow and their works be repaid
Still let us see it
As their works merit
Here, where those injured may bless Heav’n’s aid
Copyright Jonelle Liddell
Of Hope and Rhymes 
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