Cometh the Lion

Cometh the Lion 

Cometh the Lion, cometh the hour.  

On his head is my name; on his back is my power.  

The time is narrow, and the world is wide  

And the Lion comes now with a spear in his side.  

Look how he bleeds; his flesh is a prize  

For the cross-hearted hunter with blood in his eyes  

(Brimming red in the heat of the noon)  

And vowing to return by the light of the moon.  

‘Come follow me,’ the Lion commands,  

‘Or the hunter will come and hack off your hands.’  

He shows you safe passage and then stays behind  

To tackle marauders who take what they find.  

He fights without pity, he fights them with horror,  

He chases them down on the plains of Gomorrah.  

He rests by the river, he rests on the shore,  

He sleeps in the desert where the wild eagles soar.  

By him you are blessed; by him you are cursed.  

By him you are numbered from the last to the first.  

By him you are wounded; to him you shall yield;  

By him you are lifted, and salvation is sealed.  

Through Fire and Flood, he remains as he is,  

And no other beast, blonde or brown, can claim what’s his.  

But if they try or if they refuse to give it back,  

He'll take from their hands what they already lack.  

Study him closely. Watch him with care.  

Look at his face, then look closer, can you see me there  

Guiding his movements, breathing his air?  

You know damn well who he is; so, put up a prayer.