Praise in All Things

Let us praise the Lord our God!
Let us sing joyful songs and praise him!
Praise him with wonder for his love,
praise him in all circumstances!

When your friends are close, rejoice and give praise,
for by them God shows his love.
When they are distant, rejoice and give praise,
for in our solitude God is there.

When you are loved, rejoice and give praise,
for God is a giver of beautiful gifts.
When you are despised, rejoice and give praise,
for you follow the footsteps of your Savior.

When you are at peace, rejoice and give praise,
the Holy Spirit dwells in your heart.
When you are troubled in soul, rejoice and give praise,
it is in times of trial that God carries us.

When you are protected, rejoice and give praise,
for God's love has preserved you.
When you are tempted, rejoice and give praise,
His power is made perfect in weakness.

When you are joyful, rejoice and give praise,
the Lord has touched you with his boundless joy.
When you are suffering, rejoice and give praise,
for He has let you share His cross.

When you are consoled, rejoice and give praise,
the Lord shares His Spirit with you.
When you are desolate, rejoice and give praise,
for He urges you in growth towards Him.

In all things, my brethren, let us praise the Lord!
Let us sing the praise of our mighty God!
For all things he has ordered for our good,
his actions are all just and praiseworthy!

Battle Comes

Clamoring, baying come the foes
their faces with sickening light aglow,
an evil tempest of pointed spears.
Fell the light within their eyes,
dark their form like thunderous skies,
embodiments of death and fear.

Bring forth thy challenge, dim-witted fools!
I'll see your lust for battle quickly cools!
Death waits for you neath my blade!
Though like a gathering storm you o'er me loom,
I warn you that you march unto your doom!
For this fight, this trial my arms were made!

In your lust for blood, your bitter haste,
that wantonly drives you onward, laying waste,
a dire foe there is that you have failed to see.
And though you charge in hoards unnumbered,
I raise his horn to lips and his fierce cry thunder.
In my right arm his strength shall ever be.

And when we meet in arms bitter contest,
then shall thy heads be cleaved and pierced thy breast.
Like wine that runs from press your blood will flow!
And when at last you know defeat, that bitter taste,
despair then in your loss and death's embrace!
For you have thrown yourself against too great a foe!

My sword in eagerness for blood is singing,
the call to battle in my breast is ringing!
Of your body's nectar my sword shall drinketh deep!
Yea, hear the snarling of my blade in thirst,
it longs to drink the blood of evil, the accursed!
To you will it gladly bring eternal sleep!

Charge me then, come evil ones to me!
Know when we come to face it's death you see!
My mood is stern and my temper fey!
Within my heart and eyes a fire shows it's light,
that speaketh of my Lord's unfathomed might!
With his strength in me I'll win the day!

There is a King

What is a king with no crown,
or one who has no throne?

What is a king with no scepter in his hands,
with royal cloth upon his back?

What king has no palace,
or armies to follow him to war?

What king has no treasure stored,
and fanfare for his arrival?

There is a King who had no crown but thorns,
his throne a wooden cross.

There is a King who's hands
held nails instead of scepter.

There is a King who's royal cloth
were scourge marks on his back.

There is a King who was thrown from his city,
who had no army, for his followers abandoned him.

There is a King who had no treasure.
What he did have was divided.

There is a king who's fanfare
was the jeering of his executioners.

This King died a death unfit for any king.
Yet since he died he won his kingdom.

The Love of the Father

As a babe on its parent’s knee,
so shall I rest in the lap of the Lord.
Like a child who awaits the coming of his Father,
so shall I leap into his arms.

What is there that can keep me from him?
What deed can I do that will turn him away?
Swiftly does his chastisement turn to love.
Because of the greatness of his love he will embrace me.

Not for my merits does my Father love me,
for I am like an erring child, causing him pain with my sins.
He casts these aside in the face of his love.
My misdeeds are a drop of water in the eternal furnace of his unquenchable love!

It is in the love of the Lord that I have my hope.
Because of his great love he will not cast me off.
When I turn to him again he will shield me in his arms.
His desire is to bring me into his embrace.

Upon the lap of the Lord I find comfort.
In the arms of the Lord I take solace.
His presence for me is a sheltered place,
a refuge for me in times of trouble and grief.

How great is the Lord who shelters me with his presence,
who for the sake of his great name forsook me not.
He swiftly ran to me with arms outstretched,
enfolding me in the warmth of his love.

I sat on the knee of the Lord
and he listened to my weeping.
I told him of every affliction
and found in his presence peace.

What words, my loving Father, can express my gratitude?
You have been there for me always, guarding your child.
Even when I have transgressed your ways you are there.
Your love cannot be matched by anything on Earth.Thank you, thank you, Father!

Lament for Iain Ruaidh

I decided to put words to a song I heard called "The Lament for Iain Ruaidh"

Fallen has Scotland's faithful son,
sleeps he now in shining glory,
but she left sorrowing grieves the one,
the fallen warrior, bold Iain Ruaidh.

Hard the mournful heavens cry,
as they hear the sorrowful story.
Drop a tear ye who pass by,
in lament for brave Iain Ruaidh.

Clear and strong did his voice sound,
singing ta battle over the mountains,
a new voice ha' the angels found,
in the warrior with the voice like a fountain.

Hard the mournful heavens cry,
as they hear the sorrowful story.
Drop a tear ye who pass by,
in lament for brave Iain Ruaidh.

He with furious sword defied
the foes wha pressed him, pierced him through.
On unbent knee he proudly died,
he of valiant heart and true.

Hard the mournful heavens cry,
as they hear the sorrowful story.
Drop a tear ye who pass by,
in lament for brave Iain Ruaidh.

N'er again will his true love meet,
him ta who her heart was tied.
Nor will they join in kiss sae sweet,
for she sits alone at his graveside.

Hard the mournful heavens cry,
as they hear the sorrowful story.
Drop a tear ye who pass by,
in lament for brave Iain Ruaidh.

The heather now it brightly blooms
where he fell and guards his grave,
while sad the pipes sing out a tune,
for Iain Ruaidh, young and brave.

Hard the sorrowful heavens cry,
as they hear the mournful story.
Drop a tear ye who pass by,
in lament for brave Iain Ruaidh.