Sent

Isaiah stood before a sovereign throne

An unclean soul, he thought it was his end

His tongue, profanity, his sin to own

A burning coal, a call, “Who will I send?”
 A message for the lost – they will not hear

Eyes, stubborn, closed to God – they will not see

They keep Him at arm’s length, will not draw near

And never find the person they could be
 The call goes out again, “Who will I send?”

To speak a good-news message to the poor

The broken-hearted soul, to fix, to mend

To break the chains, bring down the prison door

 His Kingdom comes with all-consuming joy 

All heartache, tears and pain, He will destroy