In the story of everyone broken and bruised

Is the heart of innocence unjustly abused.

It’s the weary slave as he shouts at the sky;

It’s the aborted infant’s final cry.

In the midst of each pain-filled groan unheard,

There stands the suffering mockingbird.

It’s the widow who kneels by her husband’s grave;

It’s the young girl with cancer who tries to be brave.

The made-fun-of child who’s not like the rest,

Putting his will just to live to the test.

In every heartache left uncured

Resides the crying mockingbird.

It’s the martyr’s face as he’s burned at the stake;

It’s the orphan lying in bed awake.

The deafening echo of each silent scream;

The terrorists who threaten the American Dream.

Where evil and injustice thrive undeterred,

There echoes the cry of the mockingbird.

The heartless tyrant and the plans he devises,

Making him blind as the red sun rises.

It’s the homeless man who sleeps under stars

And the visible marks of our Savior’s scars.

The innocent lamb in a slaughtered herd–

That is the picture of the mockingbird.