When I confess,
Truth from my mouth,
Feels like a test.
Of doubt, is it?
Or just pitch black,
A form of fear,
Crouching at the back.
Away you go,
Leave me alone,
I shall be saved,
According to His faithfulness.
Come now my King,
And rescue me,
Repair my shield of faith,
And patch my helmet,
As I sharpen the blade,
Of my spiritual armor.
Come now,
And lead me to battle,
The war You have won,
But is yet not over.
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