Old Glory To Glorified

I WAS A WORN OUT FLAG,
MY BORDERS TORN AND TATTERED.
MY GOOD DAYS ALREADY PASSED,
I WAS NOTHING THAT MATTERED.

ALL THROUGHOUT MY LIFETIME,
I COULD REALLY TELL A STORY.
OF HOW I WAVED SO PROUDLY,
WITH AWESOME COLORS OF GLORY.

MY STARS WERE ONCE WHITE,
MY STRIPES ARE NOW FADED.
HANGING LIMP IN THE AIR,
NO HOPE WAS ANTICIPATED.

AS I WAS LOWERED DOWN,
MY SEAMS JUST RIPPED APART.
I CRIED OUT FOR RESTORATION,
FROM DEEP WITHIN MY HEART.

THEN IN RAINMENT OF WHITE,
SOMEONE ELSE ARRIVED ON SCENE.
HIS COUNTENANCE WAS REAL BRIGHT,
HIS ROBE WAS SNOW WHITE CLEAN.

HE SAID, I HEARD YOUR CALL,
AND YOU I WILL RESTORE.
I WILL CALL YOU OLE GLORY,
YOU WILL LIVE FOREVER MORE.

NOW I WAVE REAL HIGH,
WITH MY RED, WHITE, AND BLUE,
IF HE DONE IT FOR THIS FLAG,
WOULD HE NOT HELP YOU?

John Cain © 2009