Poetry

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Fighting for the Son
By Kay Brown

I’ve just come from the battle; I’ve been wounded in the war.
My heart is bleeding badly and my soul can take no more.
The dark enemy ferocious is gaining ground tonight.
His minions circle madly thinking they have won this fight.

But as I ‘m feebly limping in, I glimpse a light in camp.
In the center of its circle is a single, shining lamp.
Gaining precious, ebbing strength, I stumble toward its glow.
The One that stands before it is the One that I should know.

For my Savior, Lord Jesus, is the Master of the fray.
He’s beckoned me to come to Him and rest ‘ere break of day.
And even though He’s Master, He will to my wounds attend.
As He anoints and cleanses, ghastly sores begin to mend.

“Oh Master,” I cry weakly, “Do not soil your linens, Lord!
A servant should be cleaning me so I can be restored!”
But washing first my wounds, then heart, until my spirit’s stirred
And smiling with those loving eyes, He firmly speaks the Word,

“Unless you let Me wash you, you will never become clean.
I have work you must accomplish unlike any you have seen.
This war is far from over, although it’s already won.
Your part is to obey me while completing what’s begun.”

My sight becomes quite crystal as the scales begin to fall.
My soul begins rejoicing at the sweetness of His call.
For He has found me worthy, once again, to bear His name.
Now filled with glorious purpose, I will never be the same.

Then, standing to my strengthened feet, saluting Him, I bow.
And as I worship, deep within my soul returns the vow.
A vast, great cloud of witnesses has come to worship, too.
The Savior’s glory is revealed; I know what I must do.

With wings of eagles, I return to raise His banner high,
Sword of the Spirit lifted, now; His Truth my heart’s war cry.
This battle is not ended; it has only just begun,
And I will not surrender, for I’m fighting for the Son!

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