There’s something profoundly human about Eddy Mann. He’s the kind of artist whose songs don’t just fill silence – they create space for reflection, compassion, and hope. With roots grounded in Philadelphia’s rich cultural soil and a heart steeped in faith, Mann has built a career that spans more than twenty albums, each one a chapter in a lifelong conversation between the sacred and the everyday. His latest single, “It’s Time, Lord,” released on October 6, 2025, feels like the most urgent entry in that dialogue – a spiritual plea wrapped in melody, a prayer sung for a world on edge.
From the first soft strum of the ukulele, Mann establishes a familiar sense of calm. The instrument’s gentle pulse – tender yet unwavering – becomes the heartbeat of the song, guiding listeners into a meditative state. It’s deceptively simple music, stripped of excess and ornament, but it’s this very simplicity that amplifies its power. The sound invites you closer, asking not for attention but for presence.
“It’s Time, Lord” draws direct inspiration from Psalm 7, a passage that wrestles with divine justice, mercy, and the longing for deliverance. Mann doesn’t sermonize; he translates scripture into emotion. The result is a song that feels less like a performance and more like a collective confession – a moment of surrender when words fail and faith is all that’s left.
The refrain – “It’s time, Lord, it’s time / It’s time to end the violence” – arrives like a mantra for the modern world. It’s both a lament and a rallying cry. Mann’s voice, steady but touched with weariness, carries the exhaustion of seeing too many headlines, too many broken promises. Yet beneath that fatigue lies resilience. Each repetition feels like a turning of the soul, a conscious refusal to give in to despair.
Rather than assigning blame, Mann looks inward. His lyrics – “Hear our humble prayer / Shield our weary hearts / Speak to me, Lord” – transform outrage into humility. They echo the universal ache for peace, for understanding, for something sacred to cut through the noise. It’s not a demand for divine intervention as much as a recognition of human frailty – a reminder that love and mercy are choices we must relearn daily.
Where many faith-based songs rush toward resolution, Mann allows tension to linger. His prayer doesn’t tie itself neatly with theological certainty. The world, he seems to say, is still bleeding – and we can’t heal what we refuse to feel. This honesty is what elevates “It’s Time, Lord” beyond devotional music; it becomes an act of witness.
Production-wise, Mann stays true to what his longtime listeners cherish: clarity, warmth, and intimacy. The ukulele takes center stage, its bright timbre softened by subtle percussion and atmospheric textures that drift in and out like distant waves. There’s an intentional restraint to the arrangement – every sound serves the message.
You can hear his breath between phrases, the brush of fingers against strings – these small, human imperfections that make the song feel alive. In an era obsessed with sonic polish, Mann’s choice to remain raw is its own quiet rebellion. He reminds us that authenticity, not volume, carries weight.
At just over four minutes, the track feels perfectly balanced. There’s no rush to the finish line – instead, it breathes, inviting listeners to linger in its silences as much as its melodies. Each pause feels purposeful, echoing the song’s deeper message: sometimes, peace begins when we stop speaking long enough to listen.
Throughout his career, Eddy Mann has stood apart from the glitter of commercial Christian music. His songs don’t promise easy redemption or instant joy; they wrestle with the real. That humility – that willingness to sit with uncertainty – is what makes his work resonate across boundaries of belief. He doesn’t preach; he converses. He doesn’t demand conversion; he invites contemplation.
“It’s Time, Lord” continues this legacy with remarkable grace. It’s both timeless and deeply of the moment, an anthem for anyone who’s ever looked at the state of the world and whispered, “Enough.” Yet Mann’s genius lies in transforming that despair into devotion. By the song’s closing moments, as he repeats the line “It’s time to end the silence,” it no longer feels like a plea – it feels like a mission.
There’s courage in that shift. It’s the sound of an artist not just praying for peace, but embodying it.
For those familiar with Mann’s background, “It’s Time, Lord” feels like a culmination. Raised in a faithful home – his father a be-bop pianist, his mother a creative spirit – Mann absorbed both the rhythm of jazz and the openness of art from a young age. Over the decades, that fusion of cultural and spiritual influences has become his signature. He writes not from dogma, but from devotion – a devotion to empathy, community, and the idea that music can still change hearts.
“I’m driven to write, to record, and to perform by the opportunity to bring a smile, a light, or just a moment of peace to someone in need,” Mann has said. It’s more than a mission statement – it’s the through line of his career. Across twenty albums, from his early folk-leaning records to his more contemporary faith anthems, that pursuit of light remains constant.
And in “It’s Time, Lord,” that light burns brighter than ever.
What makes this single so striking is its duality. It’s a song of worship, yes – but it’s also a social statement. Mann bridges scripture and street-level humanity, speaking to the sacred in everyone, believer or not. His prayer for peace transcends doctrine; it’s a human necessity.
In a time when faith is often politicized and art commodified, Eddy Mann reminds us that both can still be pure – that they can serve not as escape, but as encounter.
“It’s Time, Lord” isn’t just a new release; it’s a mirror held up to the world, reflecting both its brokenness and its potential for healing. Through soft chords and steady conviction, Mann turns prayer into protest, faith into fuel, and silence into song.
And when he sings, “Oh Lord, most high… save the loving in heart,” you realize: he’s not just asking for salvation – he’s calling us to become it. In a weary world desperate for renewal, Eddy Mann offers not a sermon, but a song – and sometimes, that’s exactly what the soul needs.
OFFICIAL LINKS: http://www.eddymann.com
