" . . . having warred a good warfare . . . "
My enemies have plundered me when I have lost control.
Hostilities have overtaken my own weary soul.
A refugee in all the land, I flee from those who marched
unseen and undefeated -- leaving empty husks and parched.
But I am called to battle, and am refugee no more;
if war is brought to me then I must settle up the score.
The banner that I carry, Prince of Peace, is thine alone;
and I must bear the conflict till I kneel before thy throne.
But as a soldier under thy command, I find release
from ev'ry martial folly and bring enemies thy peace.
Though marching, I'm not footsore; though I strive, the fight is sweet.
With mercy, love, and honor I will make my foes retreat!
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