Life is brutal, it’s so absolete;
Leaving me in rurals, so incomplete.
Yet through Your grace I pick myself up;
Walking in Your based church I drink from Your cup.
Your Cup of life, full of hope;
For which I strive, where I do more than just cope.
So I give my thanks to you, our heavenly Father;
my best friend, my devoted lover.
Lover of good and not bad
The lover of my soul, the lover of my land.