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O Fortitude! Strength of the wav’ring heart!
Steadfastness summoned when the blood runs cold!
When allies flee and none will take our part,
Where honor and friendship are cheaply sold,
Thine aid divine makes the trembling soul bold!
When terror would invade our feeble frame,
Thy subtle power puts the foe to shame!

O Fortitude! O encouraging voice!
When darkness attempts to blot out the sun,
And slav’ry’s law to deprive us of choice,
You brace the nerves of the poor frightened one,
Reminding that the vict’ry can be won:
If to perseverance we should hold fast,
We shall the adversaries all outlast!

O Fortitude! Come, and run in our veins,
Fire our tepidity and make us brave!
As long ages pass, ‘tis thee who remains,
Long suff’ring Patience, who never shall cave!
Come, Resolution, from all weakness save -
Where the frail man falls, and in despair lies,
You reach out your hand, and bid him to rise!
There's a flame in this world thats been used to take down the men of this world. Its a flame that leaves a burn and then we wonder why did i turn. That flame is an instinct that looks so good the feel of its warm light but its easy to forget its bitter bite. Its a tattoo and it only takes one night to leave its burns on you. So many boys chase it because its an addiction. These boys never grew up to become men. They chased after that girl and afterwards they feel the need to hurl because after that night l they realize they feel different. They lost a part of themselves and took a part of her to. Dont chase after that flame it will leave you scorched in pain. You wouldnt believe the burns from that flame. Luckily i never felt the full force of that heat but ive seen the scars and regrets of those who are ready to place another bet. I look around and see Godless boys curled around that flame not aware of the scorch not aware of the pain but im no better then them. I try to warn them but they only scoff and mock telling me i dont know the pleasure. But its not pleasure its pressure with so many pains i cant even imagine. Dont chase that flame it will turn a Godly man into a Godless boy.
The heart moans and mourns
Prickly with arrows of doubt.
Restlessness, like a hot, heavy ember
Sits upon a throne of confusion
Hidden under folds of mental shadow
Evading scrutiny and defying reason

Why? Cry you, “Why?”
For what does the heart mourn so?
What is this secret weight
Beneath which I am crushed
Whose name is unknown even to me
And yet calls itself my master?

What answer should I give you?
And what would you understand?
How shall I reply, that you would hear?
What can I reveal, that you would see?
For a pall is upon your understanding,
And what shall I say to you?

Shall I remind you that you are far from home?
Shall I point out that you walk in the midst of wolves?
Will you recognize the sword that has wounded you,
And see that it lies in your own hand?
Why do you remember that the valley is dark,
And forget the brightness of the approaching dawn?

Why do you forget your poverty?
You go about naked, and wonder at the cold.
Why do you forget your frailty?
You approach claws and teeth unarmed,
Bringing no shield to bear against the foe,
And will you complain of many wounds?

Have you forgotten that I have conquered?
You have despaired of my promise.
Is there anything above my command?
But you rather fear wretched princes.
Where is my Name powerless?
You never call upon me in faith.

But these things you will not understand.
You are surrounded by thick darkness.
Too terrible for you, this knowledge,
You will not see, you cannot hear.
Come then, and hearken.
I will speak, and you will know.

You are never alone in your suffering.
The Face of the Lord streams with tears
The Spirit of God groans with pain
The Eternal One cries out in agony
The Heart of Love is grieved
Hope Himself trembles in terror.

Look and see whether there is any solidarity
Like my solidarity; there is not.
Do you think your flesh is a costume to me?
Is your grief for me a mask?
Do you think human tears are a dance I perform?
Do you suppose I mime my wretchedness?

No; your breath fills my lungs
Your blood runs in my veins
Your bones ache beneath my flesh
Your sorrow pierces my soul
Your anguish chokes my heart
Your shame flushes my cheeks.

I howl in misery beside you;
I did not design you for chains;
So I’ll be bound likewise beside you
And moan your secret pains.
I do not know your hurt because I have made it;
I know your hurt because I bear the same scars.

I have drunk and have tasted and had my fill of your thirst;
Come, drink now of my fullness!
Your hunger has burned in the pit of my being;
Come, eat without price!
I have broken my back ‘neath the weight of your guilt;
Come to me, and I shall set you free!
Isaiah 55
Fallen angels
drop from the sky.
Fallen angels mar
the earth with evil
In their eyes.

Human suffering,
eternal greed.
Life’s ending,
laboured breathing.

Fallen angels drop
from the sky.
Fallen angels
Seem white
But lie.
 
I see maroon
caricatures with
tight fists.
They are hell bent and
Insist, through impenetrable mists.

They emerge, unexpected and disastrous.
The world, stunned,
is unprepared for this madness.
 
Guns are blasted,
Knives do slashing.
Fallen angels have lasted
and rise even through ashes.
 
They persist and prevail,
whilst parents are covered in black veils.
They persist and prevail
As their minions hail
the sadness and
waltz in the  madness.
 
Battles have been won,
Heroes have been brave.
But monstrosities
Can never be erased.
There are too many tragedies in the world. I wish that they would just end. Unfortunately, they are not going to. Evil will always exist in this temporary physical world.
 Nov 2017 ClawedBeauty101
bones
When will I see you again?
Pain means nothing when no one can see it.
My Bride, look at her!

Beautiful in souls beyond counting
She, in bodies numberless
Has been formed with loving care
By the very hand of God

Elegant in countless minds
And handsome in as many hearts
She is lovely in every way
Loved indeed by Love Himself

My Bride, pity her!

See her wracked with sobs!
In myriad faces her countenance
Is wet with the dew of tears
And her visage downcast with weeping

In the untold number of the oppressed
She is everywhere brought to her knees
A thousand times bound in chains
And constantly despised and scorned

In every sorrowful soul
She groans, awaiting redemption
She sighs to heaven in misery
And mourns in desolation

In every place her spirit is crushed
She is thirsty and forlorn
She bleeds from numberless wounds
Anxious in countless broken hearts

And I, her husband?
What is her Beloved to do?

I will weep for her consolation
And I will suffer for her comfort
I will bend down to embrace her
And I will bind up all her wounds

I will be spent for her renewal
And I will carry her on my back
I will sigh for her salvation
And I will lift her up in prayer

I will always walk beside her
And I will right her when she falls
When she stumbles, I will catch her
In her every peril I shall be near

I will be scourged to ruin for her healing
And I will bleed to see her spared
I will stretch out my arms upon the Cross
And love her even there

Behold the Bride, how loved she is!
In joy, in calm, in strife
Ne’er unlovely in her lover’s eyes
More dear to him than life
Written from the perspective of the Divine Bridegroom
No one said life was gonna be like this.
Chasing these demons, throwing my fists.
No one said this cross was gonna be heavier than the stone rolled away from that empty tomb.
At nights I struggle with these temptations in my mind but I refuse to give and refuse to bend.
During the days I look into the eyes of that kid who I wish he would let himself be saved. But he refuses to cave. I look into those but I dont see his. I see the devils eyes and he tells me how much he hates me and anyone like me but that punk wont phase me. He uses my peers to try to haunt me but I kept walking while they kept taunting. He tries to break me with this temptations and he tries to destroy me with anxiety and depression but I refuse to listen. The devil just wont get it, he tries to throw me outta commision but I wont be pushed off mission.
He tries to make useless but I look down at those dog tags around my neck and im reminded just why im fighting because my master cant be beaten and neither can his warriors.
Im fighting for him and im fighting for the salvation of those who deny him.
My heart breaks for those lost souls.
This nation struggles with depression yet they keep chasing the very things causing their depression.
This nation follows the American dream but really its just an illusion full of confusion. I wander through that fog clinging to my dog tags that lead the way towards true happiness. Not this sadness.
I tasted the things of this world and I want no part in them.
The devil thought he had me but then love broke through and carried me, beaten and battered to victory.
Yet the war's not over, every day it's a battle for my life its a fight for whats right.
But there is a promise of victory.
I came into this war thirsty for water, im not hungry for sand.
The devil thought he could take me I remembered grace and the first time I tasted it so he can charge me with everything hes got. My general knows his filthy plot. Im in this till the finish so ill tell the devil to shut it whenever he tries to remind me. He tries to rip that cross from my neck and deny me who I am but I know who I am. Im a child of the king almighty
Where were we when they killed Him? Where did we
Find ourselves in that sixth hour, when there fell
That sepulchral darkness, and none could see
Ought but tree and nails? We know well

Where Caiaphas stood. He rose to gloat and
Jeered at Him who dared to suggest He would
Raise the Temple of God by His own hand;
“Let Him come down, save Himself, if He could!”

Judas was in a different tree - he prayed
Not, believed not, hoped not; but hoarsely sang
A curse against himself who had betrayed
His Teacher, and resigned himself to hang.

Peter, Rock, the chief, nowhere to be found;
For he in fear ran to a lonely place
And stretched himself out upon the cold ground
While burning tears of shame streamed down his face.

Poor Dismas, hanging, recognized his sin.
The bleeding thief sought pardon from his Lord;
He begged, seeing the peril he was in,
He touched the King’s heart before the cruel sword.

John, the Magdalen, and the Mother too,
Kept vigil on ****** sand ‘neath the Cross;
That Mother’s heart which alone truly knew
The height and depth of the world’s present loss.

But where was I? What was my part, you ask?
I’ll confess it, though I cry and stammer
With cowardice: when I finished my task,
I stood, mouth agape, and dropped my hammer.
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