Tyb
https://www.christianitytoday.com/history/people/evangelistsandapologists/george-whitefield.html
https://thefounding.net/george-whitefield-evangelist-of-the-great-awakening/
Psalm 11
1 In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?
2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart.
3 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
4 The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
5 The Lord trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
7 For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.
Can you remember, remember my name?
As I flow through your life
A thousand oceans I have flown
Oh, and cold, cold spirits of ice
Ah, ah, all my life
I am the echo of your past
I am returning, the echo of a point in time
And distant faces shine
A thousand warriors I have known
Oh, and laughing as the spirits appear
All, all your life
Shadows of another day
If you hear me talking on the wind
You've got to understand
We must remain
Perfect strangers
I know I must remain inside this silent well of sorrow
A strand of silver hanging through the sky
Touching more than you see
The voice of ages in your mind
Oh, is aching with the dead of the night
Oh, precious life
Your tears are lost in falling rain
And if you hear me talking on the wind
You've got to understand
We must remain
Perfect strangers
Time to cry