Poems

The Defeated

Think not because you raise
A gleaming sword,
That you will win to praise
Before the Lord.

And though men hail you great
Unto the skies,
Deem not 'twill ope' the gate
Of Paradise.

Though you have gold and gear
And fame and power,
What odds when you draw near
The Judgement Hour?

But if in bloody dust
Yet unafraid
You battle for the Just
With broken blade--

Then will the Lord look down
With eyes of love,
And you shall win a Crown
All price above.



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