When the enemy comes in
And your soul does strive to win,
In a mighty rushing flood,
With its filth, debris & mud
Or a subtle, snailish creep
Just a gentle oozing seep,
Of memories of falls long past
Till he gains control at last,
Then God's Spirit swift and sure
Raises up a standard pure,
Lifts us up to higher plain
Where the victory we do gain;
And foe defeated flees
While the saint drops to his knees
Praising God for trials like these.
LML
* This was written for Pastor Dave & the Northern Light.
From Isa. 59:19b
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