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Battle
Weary |
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by Wayne Dillard
(Written for my wife Kathleen after an intense time of ministry in
North India.)
The battle rages all around,
as you travel out from town to town
Others can’t see nor do they know
the vicious onslaught of your foe.
You alone have eyes to see
the snarling face of your enemy.
Who seeks to wrestle to the ground
the one who’s come to take his crown.
The contest is a struggle fierce
that leaves you feeling you've been pierced.
But though you’re weary from the fight
You know your cause is just and right.
And as you stop to catch your breath
the owner of both hell and death
says to you, "Well done my friend,
a battle well fought, right to the end.
Receive my peace, and take your rest
and remember my child that you are blessed
To be a soldier that fights with me
tearing down strongholds, to set captives free.
You may feel bruised and battle worn,
but from the enemy crowns were torn.
My Spirit now is free to go
where evil once was in control.
No victories come without some blows
and every scratch your Father knows.
So rest your bruises with some ice
and Thank you for your sacrifice."
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