Poetry

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Consumed by the power of the Mighty Hand.
Summoned their swords, in God they stand.
“For Jesus, Our King!” they shout aloud.
And shut the depths of the Liar’s mouth.

The battlefield is set and prepared.
The enemy’s captives taken to preserve.
With a thunderous roar, they ran and fought.
Freedom of the oppressed is what they sought.

The earth trembled and shook.
Both armies setting their hooks.
Closer… Closer… They’re feet apart.
And with the clash of bodies, struck the heart.

Chains were broken loose, arrows from nowhere.
Dark blood splattered, here and there.
Staining the brave faces of the warriors,
Then with the final gash, heaven roars.

“Victory!” in worn voices they cried.
A single captor, they let not slide.
In Jesus, the Majestic Rock, they firmly stood
And overcame evil with good.

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