Christian poem 'THE SOUND OF BATTLE' by Norman Wagoner (Christart.com)

THE SOUND OF BATTLE
by Norman Wagoner © 2000

It begins when we are very small
And much too young to know,
The choices between God and man
And which way we should go.

Our parents help us in these times,
And angels too draw near;
As we grow and play and laugh
And live without a fear.

But as we grow, the "world" draws near
And pleads for us to come,
And play the way the "world" says play.
THE BATTLE HAS BEGUN!

The choices we begin to make
Are not those of our Lord.
And soon we're left on battlefields,
Without our shield and sword.

One day God sends to each of us,
His Spirit, sweet and low.
Convicting each of all our sins,
And shows the way to go.

Some men will choose to turn around,
And head back home to God.
The others will ignore God's voice,
And choose this world to trod.

It was when I was just sixteen,
When this voice came to me.
I cried to God with all my heart,
Through Jesus, He saved me.

But it was not too very long,
Before the "world" came back.
And this time it was not to play,
It was on the attack.

I look back on those early years,
And now see why I failed.
I went out to the battlefields,
Without my suit of mail.

The world is tough and wicked,
And kills a lot of men.
It pierces through with pridefulness,
And tangles them with sin.

It tempts the mind with pleasures,
And coats the heart with lust.
Promising to quench the thirst,
But fills the mouth with dust.

It has no mercy, seeks no good.
It's purpose - to destroy.
It's tried to crush me constantly,
Since I was just a boy.

Now I have learned so many things,
Since my fight first began.
Each day the Spirit teaches me,
The next step in God's plan.

But it is still my duty, and
My responsibility;
To make sure daily, I'm prepared,
To go to war for Thee.

I must maintain a girt of truth.
My righteous breastplate too.
The shield of faith upon my arm;
The gospel peace for boots.

The helmet of salvation,
Shall rest upon my head.
And each day, all these should be mine
Before I leave my bed.

And then I shall take extra care,
To sharpen up my sword.
To spend time in God's living work,
To thank and praise my Lord.

For satan is a sorry scum
And for our sins we'll pay.
If we do not prepare ourselves
To withstand the evil day.

So each day, all this I must do
To sit high in the saddle.
And point my steed, at highest speed,
TOWARD THE SOUND OF BATTLE.

This poem won 1st place for the May 2007 poetry contest

Please contact Norman Wagoner at "norm_suewagoner@hotmail.com" to request permission to use this poem.