| Oh, Lord, take your plow to my fallow ground
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| Let your blade dig down to the soil of my soul
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| For I’ve become dry and dusty
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| Lord, I know there must be richer earth lying below
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| For I’ve been living in Laodicea
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| And the fire that once burned bright
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| I’ve let it grow dim
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| And the very One I swore that I would die for
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| Oh, has been forgotten
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| As the world’s become a friend, oh…
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| We have turned from your laws
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| To try to find a better way
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| Each man does today what is right in his own eyes
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| We will pay the price for our sinning
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| We can never know true living
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| We’ve exchanged His truth for lies
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| We’ve been living in Laodicea
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| And the fire that once burned bright
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| We’ve let it grow dim
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| And the very One we swore that we would die for
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| Oh, has been forgotten
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| As the world’s become a friend
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| It is no small of a thing that He’s done for you
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| By shutting the gates of hell upon the cross
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| We were sentenced once but now we are pardoned
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| And He chooses us to use us though we fall
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| While we’re living in Laodicea
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| Keep the fire burning bright |
| Don’t let it grow dim
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| For the very One we swore that we would die for
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| He must not be forgotten
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| Fear the world become a friend
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| Oh, the very One we swore that we would die for
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| Must not be forgotten
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| Fear the world become a friend, oh… |