America the beautiful,
or so it used to be.
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
I'm glad they'll never see.

Babies piled in dumpsters,
Abortion on demand.
Oh, sweet land of liberty;
your house is on the sand.

Our children wander aimlessly
poisoned by cocaine,
Choosing to indulge their lusts,
when God said abstain.

From sea to shining sea,
our nation turns away
from the teaching of God's love
and a need to always pray.

We've kept God in our temples,
how callous we have grown.
When earth is but His footstool,
and heaven is His throne.

We've voted in a government
that's nothing at the core
Appointing Godless judges
who throw reason out the door.

Too soft to place a killer
in a well deserved tomb,
But brave enough to kill a baby
before it leaves the womb.

You thank that Gods' not angry
that our land's a moral slum?
How much longer will He wait
before His judgment comes?

How are we to face our God
from whom we cannot hide?
What then is left for us to do
but stem this evil tide?

If we who are His children,
will humbly turn and pray;
Seek His holy face
and mend our evil way:

Then God will hear from heaven
and forgive us of our sins,
He'll heal our sickly land
and those who live within.

But America the beautiful'
if you don't-then you will see,
A sad but Holy God
withdraw His hand from thee.

--Judge Roy Moore