In storm and trial and grief and loss—When I am weary, torn
and tossed
He stands upon my battleground, and shouts at me with
fearful sound.
He taunts me with his lies and slurs, breaks me in pieces
with his words
Pretends that he is unrestrained, I donot even know his
name!
His words resound with fearful might, “you have no standing
in this fight!”
You have no king, no battle cry, you may as well submit and
die!
Look up, O Saint, behold my size! You might be saved with
compromise;
Give me your worship and your crown, and maybe I won’t bring
you down.
His fearful words resound with blame, my head bowed low in
grief and shame
His accusations rise and fall, pretending he is over all.
Trepidation see's the fight, the plunder seized with
hellish might
His words ring true and sensible, and he seems so
invincible.
But One arises full of grace! He captivates and draws my gaze;
And I begin to heed His voice, stand to my feet and make my
choice
I will not sin! I will not yield! My faith in God will be my
shield!
The terror of this fight will pass; deliverance will come at
last.
The One who rides upon the clouds, who cannot be perceived
in doubt,
Has come into the battlefield, with shouts and cries of
victory.
O enemy, behold my King!
Let all the earth his praises sing!
O hail my Savior, Jesus Christ! O hail The Living Sacrifice!
Lori Hollaway
April 15, 2016
