To the Chief Musician. A Hosanna of Justification. When I was near death.
Leave the armory intact,
For the LORD has met for battle.
Leave Him to contend, for the LORD is my rock.
His eyes go to and fro,
Looking for those who stand.
But the buttresses have decayed,
And the castle walls have fallen
into disrepair.
As the gates of hell are an open mouth,
So evil men have desired Your inheritance.
But Your desire is on the weak,
We are given the spoils of grace.
We can know peace,
For the Lord is our redeemer.
We did not plow in hope,
But Yet we live.
“To war,” God cries,
And evil gives way,
Though our sword remains sheathed,
He is Iron in battle.
