Shadowland

Once upon a time, last August to be precise, I wrote a poem based on a concept borrowed from C.S. Lewis. The idea of earth as a Shadowland of heaven. Well, after writing the poem, I went on to do a series of lithographs inspired by the same idea. That was in the middle of last semester. And the idea still wouldn't stop knocking around in my head.

About a month ago I began to ask my college friends if anyone was interested in making a movie. I got enough interest to warrant me writing a script, but didn't have any solid ideas. Until late one night, after several hours of sleepless tossing and turning, God gave me the nudge to start writing. So after scrounging out my old glasses I sat in front of my laptop in the dark of a room lit only by its screen; and began to write. Two hours later I had finished a seven page script across which were scattered the verses of the poem I had written months earlier. A few days and helpful critiques (thanks, Director!) later I had a finalized script. 

And we filmed it, less than a week later. And now, exactly one week after filming day, I present you the finished product: Shadowland.

The Tale worth Telling

Two-thousand years ago, on a quiet night in a small country town, with the lights of the big city shining in the distance, several homeless men sat silently around a tiny fire, content to let alone and leave alone the world around them.

That was before the sky above them ripped open as a window into another dimension split across the starry skywall. And framed in the glorious light spilling from the crack stood a powerful being the likes of which they had never seen. Fear clutched at their hearts and terror shot through their knees. But the words this being spoke calmed them as easily as oil calms a turbid wave.

"Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."

And no sooner had he finished than the entire sky disappeared behind a sheet of blinding light as an army thousands upon thousands sprang in existence and began to chant with a noise like rushing waters:

"Glory to God in the highest! And on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"

With that they were gone, and the darkness of the night settled slowly back over the hills, leaving those awestruck men in silence. It only took a hurried conversation for them to decide what they must do. And leaving behind all that was familiar to them, they set out to find what had been told of.

And they found it, several miles away, in a tiny cave tucked into a rocky hillside. A donkey and a few sheep huddled in the back, their stalls taken over by an exhausted couple and their feeding trough by a newborn baby. 

The humblest of beginnings for the greatest of all kings.

The smallest of abodes for the most powerful of all rulers.

The lowest among men witnessed the birth of the Highest.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen! (and ladies)!

Meet Chase Forthen

*First of all, let me apologize for the apparent youth of the characters in the drawings. Apparently I can't draw age very well yet. Assume, for the present, that these were vignettes taken when they were a few years younger.

Meet Chase Forthen, a young man who had to grow up far too quickly when his hometown of Arskone became a battleground overnight. The son of the town's preacher, both his parents were killed in the first attacks, leaving Chase with the responsibility of caring for the hundred or so souls who had come to his father's chapel every Sunday. And doing so meant taking the fight to the enemy. 

For these attackers were not men of flesh and blood, but far darker things of the night and of death; foul things sent from the very bowels of hell. 

Against this undead menace Chase and the men of Arskone rose up, quickly learning the ways of a war where a blade might give more protection than a gun, and a prayer more power than a calvary charge. They became shadehunters, warriors against the night, and very real defenders of their faith and homes.

As the war drew on, quickly turning into a stalemate along the front lines of the old railroad tracks, Chase became known for his skill, fortitude, and unshaken trust in his God. But something was coming, something that would shake the already upside down Arskone to its very core, and Chase along with it. For God never forsakes His children, yet never stops teaching them. And the son of the preacher still has much to learn.

Night falls, the specters rise; the war beings once again

Hope fades, darkness sighs; who can see the end?

Stand fast, hold your ground; let them not win this night!

Be strong, listen to the sound; dawn will bring the light!

Shadowland

Shadowland

Footsteps on the lonely beach

Fading marks on shifting sand

Incoming tide will wash away

I am walking in the shadow-land

Sojourning somewhere not my home

Traveling across the barren strand

Wandering where I don't belong

I am walking in the shadow-land

Smoke on the crying wind

No one around but the damned

There's fog on the barrow-downs

I am walking in the shadow-land

It's raining ash instead of tears

And all at once I understand

I'm meant for so much more

I am walking in the shadow-land

There's a place I'm meant to be

Just beyond the curtain spanned

Pull back the gray and look

I've been walking in the shadow-land

There He stands, just inside the glass

And He's reaching out his hand

I'm going home at last

I will say goodbye to the shadow-land

Home... is where the Heart is

I've noticed an interesting trend in my soliloquies on Quartorlen. As I wax eloquent on the colorful landscape painted across my imagination, I've come to realize the image in my mind is a lot like what I imagine Heaven will be like.

Which is good and bad. Because Quartorlen is not heaven. Nor even an allegory for heaven. The folk who dwell there are flawed, evil is dangerously present, and darkness often threatens to blot out the deep colors the land is made from.

But the realization brings up an important point. See, Quartorlen is a place I would love to live. It is the perfect combination in my mind of different landscapes and climates. From icy white mountains to thick green forests, rolling blue downs to rocky red cliffs, the world of the freeborn is everything amazing here on earth, all rolled together, doubled, and painted in brilliant colors. And I'm pretty sure that that's what heaven's going to be like. Just infinitely, eternally, imagination-defyingly better.

So why does all this matter? Because it means that deep down in my soul is set a longing for a home that I have never seen; a home that is perfect in every way for me; a home that is heaven.

And when I get there, I can say, like Jewel the Unicorn of Narnia;

"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now."

Plot Rabbits

Or bunnies. But I prefer to not have that word featured anywhere in my vocabulary. :P

But seriously, these little creatures collectively known as the infamous, deadly, plot bunnies, have been eating me alive lately. So far, I have luckily been able to shake them off, merely making note of their existence; and I hope to continue doing so in the near future.

See, I'm trying to stick to one project at a time right now (well, one in each type of media :P), and right now plot bunnies are being given the boot. Cause no matter how enticing, this writer is currently occupied.

But, since they're clamoring for attention, we'll at least give them the look-over. Let's see here...

A young boy wakes up in his own dream to meet his dream lord, a guardian of his imagination who wages constant war on the fears and nightmares of the night. Across the infinite meshes and merges of time and space that occupy the mind he rides, battling the darklings of fear. But in the end, it is the boy himself who must challenge his fears and use his own powerful imagination against them.




A small town finds itself home to a rift in reality through which fall all manner of strange creatures and men, most of them dangerous. And so a club is formed; the gun fanatic, the librarian, the physicist and the junkyard man. Using their combined wits, knowledge, and sense of humor, they set out to track down every last bit of weirdness that's fallen through.




Sometimes, the right things fall into the wrong hands. When an artifact that shows the truth about the holder and the world around him falls into the hands of a power-scheming lord, it nearly breaks him. He comes away embittered with the brokenness of the world and hopeless of ever finding good again. So he begins using the artifact on those around, crushing them into his service with hopelessness and despair. The world's fallen state and their own depravity is shown is startling clarity, and they cannot bear the weight. But when he tries to use it on those who believe in Christ, there is no visible effect. Children of God already know the truth about themselves; how sinful they truly are, how unable to ever seek pardon on their own, and how in need of a savior. What's more, they know that there is a savior, that there is hope, and that the saving of this world has already begun.




Among all the pirates of the South Sea, none were as merciless as Ralj. He was known as the man who never took prisoners. Every man, woman and child who survived his initial attack was thrown overboard, but not before wanted they told him what he to know. Some tried to resist, but they were merely killed sooner as an example for the rest. Folk feared him, but they feared dying more, and Ralj used that fear however he pleased. His reign of terror continued for years, until the day he met someone who wasn't afraid to die. A young girl, who stared him back in the face unflinchingly and simply asked if he would kill her quickly when he did. He let her live a day longer, just to see if he could find out what was different about her. And the day after that, and the day after that. And that young girl, not quite a woman, started something so unheard of, that for years afterward, folk would use it as an example of the impossible becoming possible. 


So, those are the little fellers that have been nipping at my heels. I'll get to them eventually. :)

The Story of My Life

Get up. Take brother and his friends swimming. Take 4-hour driver's test online. Pick up pallets and other junk wood for set building. Head to church property to start work. Run out of pallets, drop by Lowes and Walmart for more. Realize I didn't bring any shovels or axes. Head home. Sleep.

Wake up. Go to beach with friends. Hook up trailer to van. Pick up kayaks. Unload kayaks at home. Load shovels, axes, and other necessary equipment. Head back up to property to work on set. Run out of nails, send friend to get some. Go pick up bed for college and try to back up 15-passenger van with a trailer in the pouring rain. Fail, let friend do it for me. Hut still needs work. Come back home. Think of character to come as for friend's birthday party. Sleep.

Get up early to reload kayaks. Take brother and friend kayaking. Get back home, and realize I need to write a blog post. And mail a tax letter thingy for college. And work on the score of a friend's movie. Still need to finish the driver's test. Tonight, work. Tomorrow, filming. Remember to make sure I'm off work.


It's my birthday.

I have such a wonderful life. And that's not sarcasm. I have a family who loves me, a God who watches over me, and friends who support me every step of my crazy, wonderful, story of a life.

May God remind me of that more often.

Not Mine

Well, this is a shameless plug for my new "About the Author" page located here *points up*

Why? Well, a while back I was reading one of those "Top Ten Blogging Tips" posts somewhere, and they mentioned the importance of putting a face to the writer. So there's my mug. But it's not me that's important, and that's the real reason for this post.

See, I started writing, and what came out wasn't another one of those "All About Me 'Cause I'm Awesome" pages. It was what any introduction to myself should be, a whole-hearted re-direct to the Most Awesome God I serve.

And as just as it so happens, the last poem I wrote was exactly on the subject. May it further explain what I'm trying to say.

Not Mine

What words flow from my mind
What lines seep from my pen
What haunting melodies do flit
On the ether around my head?

Whence come these bits of prose
These errant poems and songs
From where comes this feeling
Of words unspoken too long

These wisps are not truly mine
I cannot claim them as my own
My mind could not conjure such things
Nor my pen to write them alone

Yet still they come, fountaining on
Bubbling up in a rapid stream
I cannot stop up this steady flow
No more than a sleeper can stop his dream

But my life is not my own
I've been bought with a price
And no more are my words mine
Than is my purchased life

So may these words I've been given
Never stop their flowing
May my pen continue to spill
Out praises to my holy King

May every poem, story and song
All sing together of the One
May every sentence and every rhyme
Glorify the Father and His Son

In the Garden

In the garden silence cries soft
For the innocent has been slain
Laid to rest in the weeping stone
The earth sobs in pain

The streams laugh no more
The trees their sorrow hears
The rain has come twice again
As the heavens let fall their tears

Can the dawn even come this day?
Should we not be left in the night?
For who would care to begin
Another day without the Light?

But, hark! Listen to that sound!
And turn your eyes to the place
Where his body lies at rest
Wrapped in cloth, covered his face

See, the stone has moved!
The door has been rolled away!
And inside, no body to be found
For our Lord has risen today!

He's alive once again
Risen and glorified
Death could not hold him
Our sin's been sanctified

Criminal's Death

I wrote this after this morning's message. May it affect you as it affected me.


Criminal's Death

The winds sweep cold across the hill
Noon draws quickly near
A man is hung in public shame
Let all who pass by see and fear

Three criminals strung up high
Come out and see their fate
Agony binds their limbs in pain
The crowds hurl stones and hate

Does no one feel pity for them?
Tried and guilty as they are?
Thieves and blasphemers all
For them, death is not far

High noon has come at long last
But dark spreads instead of light
As if the earth itself protests
When it's people mock and spite

Shall we leave this awful place?
Leave these criminals to die in peace?
Let us turn our eyes away
Before the crows begin to feast

But wait! The one in the center speaks!
And what he says, can it be true?
The words come low but ring out
"Father God, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Then he cries out in pain and suffering
As His spirit leaves this space
He has died, and with his death
The world seems a poorer place

Then the entire universe screams in pain
As the earth itself begins to shake
The wind begins to cry in grief
And the rocks their silence break

And so it becomes painfully clear
The center man was free of guilt
Perfect, blameless, the Son of God
Saving the world as He was killed

Jesus Christ, ruler of this world
Crucfied as a common thief
But even death could not hold Him
And he rose again from grief

Ressurected, ascended to on high
King over this world forever more
Saved me by his sacrifice and death
He holds my heart, my life, my soul

"Whatever You Do"

So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved.
1 Corinthians 10:31-33 (ESV)


These are the verses that come to mind whenever I think about my writing. As I have drawn closer to God in the past year and a half, I have come to realize that every single one of my passions, desires, and pursuits should and must conform to God and be solely for His glory. And writing is at the top of that list. Why? Because it's the hardest.

Serving God with my violin isn't that difficult. Music played to Him and His glory has always been at the forefront of my mind as I have learnt and played this instrument.  But writing... that is something much more difficult.

You see, anyone can write. You need only a keyboard or pen and paper. However, not many can write. In other words, not many can write something worth reading. But I, as a Christian and son of the Author of all creation, have a still higher calling. I am called to not only write something worth reading, but something that glorifies Him in the process.

"So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."

But here's the really tricky part.

"Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God."


Not only does my writing have be good, worthy of reading and glorifying to God, but it must also be above reproach from without.

Now, this varies slightly based on the audience, of course. If I am writing strictly to a Christian audience, then my writing is going to be largely geared towards them and the common knowledge we all share. But if I am writing both to my fellow Christians and the world, then it must also accessible and grabbing to those who do not share my love of Christ. How can I do both? How can I share the Gospel truth (literally!), while not turning away those whom I am trying to reach?

Well, Christ Himself has given us a strategy in His word.


"Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves." Matthew 10:16 (ESV)

Boom! Right there. If I can write a tale that grabs my reader from the beginning, starting them out on an innocent little roller coaster of a tale, and then pull the ground out from under their feet, then I will have done all I can do. Every book, movie, or song is a journey for those who read, watch or listen to it. I only hope my books take them on a journey that leads them somewhere worth going.

And finally:


"just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved."


I do not write because I want to be recognized, or because I somehow feel that the world deserves my writing. I write because God has called me to do so. And if He uses it to bring people to Himself, then to Him belongs the glory.

"If at first you don't succeed..."

"Fry, fry, a hen."

Ahem.

Anyways... my latest project in my architectural design class involves designing a dune crossover for a nearby seaside community. Basically, it's a glorified boardwalk. With something on it. Something monumental. Something eye-catching. Something defining. Something worth remembering.

Work has proceeded as follows:

1. Sketch out site map
2. Diagram foot traffic, wind and sun patterns, and sundry other information
3. Come up with words or themes that are important to the town
4. Sketch out concepts
5. Repeat last step
6. Repeat last step

Oi. To date, I have come up with roughly thirty separate and distinct ideas. All of which must fit in a 26 x 26 foot square and be no more than 50 feet high.

I'm ready to fry some hens.

Think about it! I must create something out of the ordinary, something that will grab people's attention, but still fit in with the surrounding landscape and have a underlying concept that has something to do with the surrounding area. Sure, a twisting pillar of fire would be cool... but that won't go over so well with the local populace. And some ideas might fit, but not be appropraite. I.e hurricanes. Yes, they come from the sea. Yes, they have a easily used form. No, I doubt people want to be reminded of them.

Where's those chickens?

No, a dragon will not work no matter how much you tie his fire to the sun or his wings to the wind, his horns to the sea oats or his scales to the dunes. No, a giant hourglass is too literal. Who would want to walk under a giant wine glass filled with half a ton of sand?

I'm gonna find those... *static*


Let's apply this, shall we? Oftentimes in life we find ourselves trying to accomplish something and failing time and again. We keep falling over in our attempts to stand up. We throw ourselves again and again at the iron gate of our problem, but it does not budge. And so what do we do? We give up. We throw up our hands and holler quits.

And as the gates of our problem totter and splinter, we turn away in despair, little realizing just how close we were. Because here's the thing. Someone's already gone through those gates and broken Himself to break the lock. All we have to do is ask Him to show us the combination.

So next you or I find ourselves smashing our heads against a iron gate, just remember, the locks have already been broken. And when we stop making a racket long enough to hear His voice, He will whisper to us the combination.


Anyone care for some Quartorlen Fried Chicken?

Our Outcry

This morning's service at church was a prayer meeting. We as a body got on our knees before our Heavenly King and prayed together. And as I prayed, my thoughts took form and meter, and this is what emerged. May it encourage you as it encouraged me.

Our Outcry

We stand in the dark
As chaos lies all around
We cannot stand on our own
We wait for Your Voice to sound

We cannot understand
And so we doubt in fear
We cannot see Your master plan
Oh God, draw ever near

Roll back the clouds, oh God
Let Your glory shine
Turn back the approaching dark
Draw Your dividing line

Stop up the waves of despair
Smash in pieces the encroaching fear
Protect your chosen people
Cast away our sins from here

Pour out instead Your loving grace
Spill out Your wondrous love
Wash us in Your holy power
Turn our eyes to You above

Keep our eyes fixed on You
Let Your people feel your peace
Kings may fall and countries tremble
But Your mercies ever increase

We tremble in Your presence
We fall on our knees in praise
We wait upon Your tender mercy
We rely on Your saving grace

Our outcry rises to Your listening ear
You reach down with loving care
You will always and forever hear
Oh God, draw ever near

Disciplines

Discipline.

Kind of a scary word isn't it? Makes you think of punishment, or drudgery, maybe? Or maybe mind-numbing repetitions?

But discipline is as necessary to human life as food and water. Without it, our lives would have no structure or pattern or even meaning. They would be a sad, chaotic, and free-floating mess of unfulfilled dreams, unsatisfied desires, and disappointed hearts.

Consider this, every morning, you discipline yourself to get up (hopefully), eat breakfast (probably), get dressed (most likely), and then set about some task (usually). Wait, do you?

I know I struggle sometimes with even these basic disciplines. All right, let's take it another direction. Every day, I discipline myself to check my email. Wow. Big deal. Such sacrifice. But I do it, and that's the point. Checking my email is important enough to me that I do it every day; multiple times a day, for that matter.

Now, if I want to succeed at anything in life, I need to keep at it until I gain some proficiency. Otherwise my life will be full of never-finished projects and goals. For example, some six or seven years ago I began to take violin lessons. I was required to practice every day for at least thirty minutes. For the next five years I practiced my violin nearly every day for at least some time. Oh, it was difficult often, and I missed days all the time. But I was discipling myself to do it. Now, years later, I don't practice at all hardly, but I play often enough to keep my fingers from losing their skill. And I'm grateful for those years I did spend practicing to get me where I am.

Let's apply this to my current situation: writing. I want to be a good writer. How do I get good? Practice. What does practice require? Discipline. For two Novembers now I have disciplined myself to write at least 1,667 words a night for thirty days. However, during the rest of the year, my writing time is sporadic, to say the least. So, I have made the decision to discipline myself in this areal; I am going to write every night (other events permitting) for at least half an hour.

Why is this important? Because not only will I be able to complete the many stories I have started, but I will continue to grow in my writing, rather than having to start all over again every time I get an inspiration kick.


Where do we go from here? God. Everything in my life should point to God, even if it's just a short little blog post that has some nice wording. So, where do God and disciplines meet?

All over the place! Disciplining yourself in Godliness is one of the most important things to being a Christian!

So, how does one do this? Many ways; but I want to focus on two foundational ones that everything else can be built upon.

First: reading His word. Everything we know about God comes from His holy scriptures, so if we seek to grow closer to Him, the best way to do that is by reading His very words. Self-application? I am going to discipline myself to read in God's word every morning right after I get up. This not only gives God the front row in my life, but helps me prepare for the day as I look to Him for guidance and strength.

Second: Prayer. If God talks to us through His word, then we talk to Him through prayer. Prayer helps keep out minds focused on Him, and keeps us close to Him as we battle through the daily mire of the world around us. Self-application? I am going to discipline myself to pray more often. (i.e: not only at meal times). I want to call on God whenever and wherever I am, to lay each and every problem before him, and to draw closer to Him throughout the day.

So, to conclude; I am striving to discipline myself to: Write every night for half an hour; Read my Bible every morning; and Pray to God throughout the day.

For:

"I can do all things through him who strengthens me."
(Philippians 4:13 ESV)

Pray for me, as I seek to glorify my God through discipling myself. And if you know me personally, keep me accountable! Ask me how I'm doing with these three disciplines.

In Christ,
Farjag

Quietude

Quietude

Water trickling down
Moss growing dark green
Sun shining down
Snow lies serene

White lies around
Quiet reigns as queen
Pure beauty around
Perfect and pristine

Marveling in silence
Landscape pure and clean
Peace follows silence
Beauty can be seen

Mountains tall and cold
Sunlight bright and pure
Snow lies soft and cold
The silence a wondrous cure

Peace settles softly down
Quieting my anxious heart
God's words come floating down
My worries float apart

In silence, peace
In quiet, calm
In beauty, repose
This is my psalm

To Get an "A"...

I just started Design 2.2, the fourth and final design class before I transfer to a larger college. Basically, we are given projects which include either drawings or models (or both), and are given the task of coming up with a professional, unique, and well thought out design that satisfies the problem. Here's the tricky part though; the grading scale is a great deal different that most other classes. For one thing, the scale is a lot tighter than your average grading scale.

A: 93-100
B: 85-92
C: 75-84
D: 70-74
F: 69 and Below

Not a whole lot of room to make mistakes. Now those 'low 90's' aren't A's anymore, they're B's. Tougher, to say the least. But look at why they're that way:

"In this class, a grade of "A" means that the project is truly exceptional, the design and presentation are professional, and that it is obvious that unusual effort and design attention were invested to produce them. A grade of "B" means that the project is more than professionally competent, that it clearly goes beyond the basic project requirements, and that extra attention was paid to the design and the presentation. A grade of "C" means that the design and presentation essentially satisfy the requirements and intent of the project. A grade of "D" means that there are serious mistakes, omissions, or craftsmanship problems with the project. A grade of "F" means that the project was not turned in or that the project was obviously not taken seriously"

Design 2.2 Syllabus

Basically, you only get an "A" if you go above and beyond. You just want to satisfy the requirements? Here's a nice "C" for you.

But here's the point; you can only achieve greatness in anything by pushing yourself and your work above the standard. 

Let's apply this to our walk with Christ. Our God doesn't ask us to sit in caves in the hills and never talk to anyone so we can live 'holy' lives; He asks us to get out there in the world around us and push the standards of what other people think we can do. We are to "Do Hard Things" for His glory. How can we further His kingdom if all we're trying to do is keep ourselves to just doing the basics? An remember, if all we're shooting for is a "C," it's far too easy to slip into the "D" range.

So, here's the question I've been asking myself: Am I an "A" Christian? Have I been striving to further God's kingdom? Or am I just a little "C" Christian, only worried about keeping to what is easy and comfortable?

I gotta say, I hadn't planned on making the connection from grades to Christ when I started writing this. I take no credit; God tapped on my heart and said, "Hey! This blog is about me, right? Not you. Now write about me."

So thank you, Lord, for Your promptings. May they be as helpful to others as they are to me.

In His Name,

Farjag

The Promise

Promise

Snowflakes softly fell
The night sky dark and cold
In Bethlehem all seems well
The wind is quiet and lulled

A tiny stable carved into the hill
The home of cows and sheep
A tiny baby lies quiet and still
Let the animals their silence keep

Upon the hills gathered round
Shepereds keep silent watch
Flocks of sheep dot the ground
Stars across the sky march

Then light came springing out
Beams of radiance shining forth
The sky splits open with a shout
Heaven beyond in all it's worth

Angels line the clouds
A choir of awesome majesty
Their holy voices raised aloud
Heaven's glorious pageantry

"A Savior has been born this night
A child of men born today
God Himself bringing light
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy!"

The Promise fulfilled
The Messiah on earth
Just as God had willed
Tonight is the Savior's birth

The Heart War

Inspired by Sunday's message...

The Heart War

Upon a battlefield colored red
Much blood has yet to be shed
The power of the enemy was broken long ago
But he continues to fight, a present and powerful foe

The heart is this battlefield red
Sin our enemy, not yet dead
Set free from that power in Christ's death
We must battle on until life's last breath

For how can we who died to sin
Still lie subject to it's evil grip within?
The law of Christ has set us free
Let us fight, can you not see?

The battle's already won
The victory's been done
The sword of the word, doubled edged and sharp
Is more powerful than any enemy's poisoned dart

Sin lies at our door, quite near at hand
And it's desire is for our embattled heartland
Stand strong you Christians bold!
The Holy Spirit has wrapped us in His fold

Walk in His power and might
He protects us from the dark of night
Sin has been thrown down
Won is the heart's sacred ground