It yieldeth much tears
For we wrestle not they
Who fall easy when we sway.
Their blows they rain down
Blood bleaches our gown
But they fight and prevail not
For by his blood we are bought.
Our loins are girded with truth,
So conquer we the evil brute.
Our helmet of salvation is sure,
Our safety in the Lord is pure.
When blows adorn our breast
Our souls shall be at rest
For our firm breastplate
From righteousness ‘twas create.
We have we the shield of faith
That hands us our enemies’ gate.
By the Sword of the Spirit
Our enemies we defeat.
We trample snakes and scorpions
Boldly waiting to battle lions
And we walk on coals with ease
For our feet are sandalled with peace.
So we fear not the valleys of death
No for danger or pestilence fret
Knowing we fight not flesh and blood
For our hope lies in Our God.
Written by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.