The Proud at War

By Mark Bishop

My enemy advances

with spears and firebrands

toward banner proud

made low upon the hill on which it stands

This golden standard I've raised myself

will not last through the fray

It's hacked to pieces by the horde

on this my strength's last day

Though the army marches onward

o'er the torn flag of my soul

you claim as yours this tattered heart

you wash it white and make it whole

Grace Killers

Into The West

Waiting

For Hope Did Die

After the Waters of Rest

 By Mark Bishop

Through the valley of deep darkness
Round the twisted mountain peaks
Where the shadows jest and cackle
while the timbers sway and creak

where is your staff to still my mind
to lead this journey bleak?
This fear will overwhelm me
please take my hand for I am weak

You say your love's a perfect cure
a balm for haunts and demons
And as my heart sinks down this road
so your mercy deepens.

It is true that fear can wrack the mind
and melt the heart
It can plague a noble journey
Make me run back toward the start

But fear can't overtake me for my life is in your hands
And though all hell assail me I know my bulwark stand

In The Shadow of Death