In the end, what I’ve procured for myself will be burnt up and not useful for anything but what you gave me from your hand will endure.
When you offered me grace, my hands were full of stones I need to build my wall; I had to let go of the stones to hold onto your gift.
Go fight, you said, but gave me no weapon except the blood and my voice. My faith was low, but I gave a shout in obedience and you gave me victory and let me collect the spoils, and not a hair on my head or a bone in my body was bruised or broken.
At my lowest, you took me to your holy hill and showed me the battlefield. There is carnage everywhere but the Lord stands in triumph, and his enemies are cut down before him; and I have strength for the days ahead.