Soldier of God
A cleric rode out from the lands of the East
Too wise for a warrior, too strong for a priest
Well-versed in letters and honored abroad
Called Don Jeronimo, soldier of God
"Mine is the charge to bring men to the Lord
By sermon, or psalm, or the point of a sword
If I have my fill of the fight ere I sleep
At the end of my living, let no Christian weep
I am your song, I am your word
I am your herald when trumpets are heard;
I am your staff, I am your rod
I am your sword as a soldier of God."
Before a great battle, he sings the High Mass
And grants absolution, for all flesh is grass;
"The man who dies fighting his foe face-to-face
Will sleep without stain and his soul will find Grace."
He goes to his liege when the Mass has been said
And begs him a boon—"Let me ride at your head;
A price I would have for the bread and the wine–
Let the first blow struck in battle be mine."
Saint Michael goes armored with buckler and steel
And George with his lance brought the dragon to heel;
In Heaven above as on Earth here below
From one hand a blessing, the other, a blow
Perhaps in the future, all hatred will cease
And all men of God will be agents of peace
But until the day when the Fiend walks no more
Then angels and men must make ready for war!