Bullets rain in the midnight sky,
Smoke and fire where my brothers lie.
I feel a sharp pain tear through my side,
I whisper, “Lord, is this where I die?”
Psalm 23 runs in my head,
“Yea, though I walk through the valley,” I said.
My heartbeat slows, the world fades away,
I see Heaven’s gates at the break of day.
Then I hear His voice, so tender and bright,
“My son, rise up, it’s not your time tonight.
Though you fall, your story’s not done,
Go back and fight, the war’s not won.”
A day later I wake on the battlefield,
Breath of life and a heart that heals.
I lift my prayer through the cannon roar,
“God, I fight in Your name, I can’t ask for more.”
Isaiah 41:10 holds me strong,
“Fear not, for I am with you,” all along.
Through smoke and blood, I march unafraid,
I know Your hands are the shield I’ve prayed.
Then I hear His voice, so tender and bright,
“My son, stand tall, I’ll guide your fight.
Though the battle rages, you will see,
Victory comes from faith in Me.”
No wound, no chain, could bring me down,
I carved His word in the battleground.
Philippians 4:13 in my soul,
“I can do all things,” let the thunder roll.
The war is won, the guns fall still,
I climb that hill with a heart fulfilled.
I bow my head under freedom’s sun,
And whisper, “Lord, Your will is done.”
I once heard His voice through Heaven’s light,
“My son, not yet, keep up the fight.
Through faith and fire, you’ll make it home,
And never again will you walk alone.”