The traces of tears disappear in the desert Where hot winds blow The touch of a conscience is lost in the ice and snow Ghosts of great cities, ruins of empires their spectres arise No sign of the living beneath these skies Minutes are pa**ing, they turn into hours The hours, they drift into days O, Redeemer, lift us above this maze Up from the wasteland, like a dream Long forgotten reappearing, Up from the wasteland Now redeemed, from a winter bleak and weary Dry bones collected, connected by sinews Stand as an army of men Filled with the Spirit, they enter this world again Its glorious light, or grey desolation The lines of the battle are drawn Jehovah, the rock that we stand upon Up from the wasteland, We are drawn, to a glory never ending Up from the wasteland By His hand, our iniquity transcending All our enemies beneath His feet No height, nor depth, nor life, or d**h Can take us away from His love