Father, I feel as though I've been marching around Jericho for six days. 

I'm tired, and my feet grow weary. 

Daily they hurl stones at me from their high places. 

Daily they vomit insults at me and blaspheme your holy name. 

All the while I march on in silence;

Wordlessly obeying your command, awaiting your orders. 

Daily I glimpse an auspicious red thread hanging from the bleak and stony outer walls. 

When will the day of perfection come?

When will we march for the seventh time and hear your trumpet sound?

When will we overtake this city;

And, with victory set the faithful captives free?

Until that day, I will press on. 

Through the violence and the ridicule I will press on. 

And everyday I see that little, obscure, red thread,

I will remember your faithfulness as you lead us out of slavery in Egypt;

I will remember your faithfulness when we crossed Pi-hahiroth on dry ground;

I will remember your faithfulness as 40 years you guided us through the desert;

I will remember your faithfulness when you lifted up a bronze serpent to cure the poison inside our veins.  

O Lord, I will not entertain the ideas of those who mock your holy name,

And I will remember your faithfulness always.