A hundred forty four thousand
Stand with the Son
His Name marks the forehead
Of each chosen one
Hear the voice of many waters
Hear the voice of greater thunder
Hear the harpers harping
Hear them fill the air with wonder
Hear them singing a new song
With words only they know
A love song to follow the Lamb
Wheresoever he may go
A hundred forty four thousand
Virgins sing for Christ
The firstfruits of the harvest
Stand in God’s holy light
And I saw
And they sing
Who shall not fear thee?
Glory to our King
An angel soars with a word to share
Worship he who made it all
Give God the glory
And you shall stand while others fall
A second angel soars, calling
To that city above all nations
Babylon is falling, falling
Trapped in the web of her many temptations
A third soars and shouts
For those bearing the mark
The wrath of God is your reward
For changing light to dark
Cast into hell, you’ll be
Just a smoke to burn the eyes
Marked
Damned
There’s no salvation in lies
And I saw
And they sing
Who shall not fear thee?
Glory to our King
Harvest time
Out of the heavens, he rides
To reap what was sown
In the seed, Jesus Christ
Thrust in the sickle and reap
Gather the clusters of the vine
The fruit’s sweet
Cast it to press, make ready the wine
Into the winepress of God’s wrath
Out from town for two hundred miles
Horses trampling, swimming through blood
Cursed reveling with savage smiles
But they don’t know, they can’t see
Any of the signs in heaven
Signaling the seven last plagues
Flown by angels numbering seven
And I saw
And they sing
Who shall not fear thee?
Glory to our King
Poet Cea 