---

Like any other day, the sun beat down on our heads

Gathering as much food as we could, knowing half would go away

Our older bodies could barely keep up, and our small harvest showed it

Then we heard the sound of drums

The captain of our oppressors draws near

We scrambled in a hurry to carry our baskets from the fields

And take them to the storehouse before going to the square

We bowed low on the street, bitter, with hate for the man behind the gate

As it opened, the captain strut in

And behind him was a face we'd hoped to never see

The stranger from the western lands, but before we could act

The captain ordered his carts into the square

And from them several youths leapt out, running to our prostrate selves

The captain said, "Rise!"

And we looked up at the faces of our children

Whom they'd taken just months ago

How has this happened?

Why return your spoils to this village?

He answered us, "It was this western man

He spoke to us the gospel of peace

That God can forgive sins by the payment of His Son, the Christ

And that we, who have attacked this village, can do what's right

To return these people and restore your might

Here I praise the God who sets the captive free

I give you what I can return and laborers, food, and riches."

Without delay, several men pushed past our ranks

Taking the empty baskets off our backs

Others emptied their carts of lumber

To rebuild what had been burned

We could say nothing

We shook where we stood and wept

Bless the God who restores and sets the captive free

By the gift of His Son, we can have peace