THE SWORD AND TROWEL
Due to an oath of service,
It has come that I must stand
Within this foreign country,
On this strange enchanted land
To raise the ancient Temple,
So long lost beneath the sand
Of time and Man's corruption,
And thus must I have at hand
Both sword and mason's trowel
So to serve the Lord's command.
Princes, kings, and potentates
Sent us all across the shore
To cut down the infidels
In a bloody holy war.
They promised righteous glory,
Even life forever more,
And so we've battled inward
Boldly taking on the chore,
Serving up our enemy
To the mercy of our Lord.
But in a lonely vigil,
On a cold and eerie night,
Blew a moaning mournful wind
That filled my heart with fright,
And glimpsing an invader,
Thrust my sword with all my might
Into an airy phantom,
My own shadow in moon's light,
And thus my eyes were opened
And my soul was given sight.
Within that silent moment
I was graced with light shot through,
And for what seemed an hour,
Yet within a breath or two,
I was freed from all my sin,
And stood with my Christ anew
As He vanquished my true foe,
Not pagan, Moslem, or Jew,
But the hubris, hate, and lust
Sitting on my heart's back pew.
And now I know my duties
Are most truly to protect
The Cross from all dishonor
And the Temple to erect.
Not with metal sword or tool
But by love must I perfect
The site of Christ's next coming
Where His light shall intersect
The heart of a true brother
Though he's of another sect.
So I take the sword and trowel
As the tools that I must test,
Not upon a foreign land
But within this human breast,
To conquer evil forces
And intolerance arrest,
Building a fraternity
That will serve the noble quest
To spread illumination
And True Glory manifest.
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