A battle cry I now resound—as loudly as I can, it’s true—
As once my father’s did before, the only Latin they likely knew.
Better than they might have known, I know from where Salvation comes;
For I do know the heart of Him, who set the stars and rising sun.
“Nobile Servitum!” Others cried, the members of the Clan,
Pledging selves to God and Chief, their King and fellow man.
They beat their shields with vigor yet unrivaled by the mob,
And though I’m weak, I still do seek that rhythm forth to throb.
In times of trouble, I gladly seek to know His face and testify.
And when Satan grasps the upper hand, brashly will I amplify
The cry so earnest, from the Heart—and yet with Warrior’s steel resolv’d—
To serve the Lord with all my might, regardless of my problems solved.
But hush, I hear Him in the night, calling softly—speaking low;
“My son, hold on a little more; just stand, I’ve ever told you so.”
I’ll stand and fight, and hold my ground, though fiery arrows ‘bout me loom.
I’ll stand and shout that battle cry, for it will never be my doom.
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