For dat time, God go make evry plant and tree grow big and fine well-well again. All di pipol wey go survive for Israel, go like di tins wey di land go produce.
God tell mi, “My savant, I get big work for yu; yu nor go only make Israel pipol wey survive, great again, but I go still make yu di lite for di nashons, so dat all di world go dey save.”
I go tell doz wey dey prison sey, ‘Make una kom out!’ And doz wey dey for darkness, ‘Make una kom enter lite!’ Dem go bi like sheep wey dey chop grass for hill.
Di sun nor go bi una lite for day time again or di moon for nite, bikos na mi, wey bi God, go bi una lite forever and my glory lite go always dey shine on una.
No oda nashon don ever shange dia god, even wen dem know sey dia gods nor bi god at-all. But my pipol don shange mi God wey give dem honor, with gods wey nor go fit help dem.