Those Who Pray the Price in
Greg Austin │ 02
Upon Arriving at
Charlotte, North Carolina I had just entered my guestroom when the
Holy Spirit began to speak to me forcefully about "the land" that
was nearby. I wrote as clearly as I was hearing. Greg
I hear the rumble of
intercession in this place
I hear the nations cry in response
As the prayers of the saints of this place
Reach their distant, far-flung shores.
I hear the cry of desperation . . .
A maniac at Gadera crying “Thou Son of God. . .”
I hear an Ethiopian cry, “Someone guide me. . .”
I hear Greek seekers pleading, “Sir we would see Jesus. . .”
The soil, even the soil of this very land has been softened
As the fallow fields of Springtime are watered by the rains,
So this land, yes, here, in this very place, has been watered
By the tears – even the desperate tears of intercessors calling out,
Crying out; proclaiming the will and the purpose of God,
That none should perish.
And I hear the Spirit say, “Accelerate! Accelerate!
For the time is at hand."
And the Spirit says, "Do not quit, do not abandon your post!
For the time is short."
The time is come that
the servant and the Master must join together.
The laborer must labor for surely the night comes when no man can
But now, even while it is day,
Strike forth and pray,
Call upon My Name,
Ask of Me and see if I will not give the nations as an inheritance
Says the Lord.