You are the salt the world still needs,
Preserving life from rot and rust,
In a culture racing toward its knees,
You hold back darkness, hold back dust.

Not just for flavor on the plate,
But agents stopping moral slide—
Your truth, your stand, your steady weight
Keep goodness breathing, keep it alive.

But if your edge grows dull and thin,
Diluted by the noise around,
What use are you? What fight within?
No fire, no bite, no saving sound.

Like Dead Sea grit that looks the part—
White crystals, empty core inside—
You’re tossed aside, no sting, no heart,
Trampled under, nowhere to hide.

Wake up, believers, sharpen fast,
Don’t blend into the trending stream;
Let compromise be in the past—
Refuse to trade your salt for dreams.

Stand firm, restrain the creeping fall,
Make wrong feel wrong, make truth ignite;
If salt itself begins to stall,
What chance remains for wrong or right?

Be bold as grace, as sharp as light,
In feeds or streets, in calm or fight;
Christ calls you salt—live out the right,
Preserve the world, preserve your fight.