Who guides my path down dusty roads,
Where others fear to tread?
Who grants the courage I will need,
To stroll among the dead?
Who cools my soul on desert sands,
And calms the raging sea?
The answer lies with someone else,
Because it isnít me.
When tempests rise along the way,
And transform day to night,
Who wipes the raindrops from my eyes,
And thus restores my sight?
Who keeps my armor free from rust,
In places I can't see?
Although I may appear to shine,
It's someone else, not me.
When fools build castles in the air,
To sweep God from the skies,
Who gives me strength to scale the walls,
And grapple with their lies?
If I besiege the gates of hell,
Who holds the holy key?
When trumpets blare and flags unfurl,
Look elsewhere, not at me.
While deep inside the dragon's lair,
Where truth and valor fade,
Who polishes the sword I wield,
And hones its slashing blade?
When wizards cast unholy spells,
And devils laugh with glee,
Who bolsters up my faithful shield?
Be warned -- it isnít me.
Where is it from, this inner strength?
A most amazing thing...
It has the courage of a child,
And conscience of a king.
It's all the things I wish I were,
Or ever hope to be,
Yet all the best that I possess,
Belongs to God, not me.
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