The day will come to lay our swords to rest
And enter victors to the Light of home,
But we are soldiers set on foreign soil.
For now, we press our shields against the blows
Of evil ranks stretched to horizons all
Around. We lift our swords and charge the horde
As arrows fly like dragons to the prey
And maces crash like falling trees on us.
Although our muscles ache and flesh wounds burn,
Although our quaking hands oft drop the sword,
Although we be but mortal and we fall,
We rouse our tattered souls again to stand.
If we had fought for power, we would fail.
If we had fought for pleasure, we would yield.
If we had fought for honor, we would die.
But we have fought for love, and we fight still
To see the beauty of our King, though veiled,
And know the wonder of His presence here.