The Morning Shield

inspired by the sunrise I can see from my office.

The morning shield is rising,
on blue fields swiftly rising,
and the shadows now are flying,
as he casts his light abroad.
And his eyes are bright and blazing,
like white hot flames are blazing,
and he's clothed in armor dazzling,
flame robed and golden shod.

His battle horn is blowing,
the call to battle blowing,
and the notes are fiercely flowing,
o'er field and mountain tall.
In forests dark they're echoing,
in tangled forests echoing,
in canyons dim they're bellowing,
as they herald evening's fall.

The shadows he is piercing,
with sharpened spear is piercing.
No hidden place he's missing,
as he calls forth the day.
And Apollo's steeds he's driving,
and dark before him driving,
and the shadows now are dying,
as he drives the dark away.

The demons now are wailing,
the shades and shadows wailing,
for their power sure is failing
against this shield of might.
With bright steel he's destroying,
their deadly hold destroying,
and they, brightness abhorring,
flee from his blazing light.

New hope in hearts he's kindling,
new life he now is kindling,
and souls now joyfully singing,
from darkness lift their eyes.
They hearken to his calling,
come marshall to his calling,
for they see the shadows falling,
and the night before him flies.

The morning shield is rising,
like Son of Man is rising,
who death's dark grasp defying,
brought life and light anew.
As he rose in glory shining,
like sunlight brightly shining,
that brings hope with each new dawning,
and lights the morning dew.