by

Gilded soldiers, tents of skin,
march through time reflecting Him!
Above the rubble, quiet din,
the truth she trumps for fallen men.
Laying poppies, tears forlorn,
we lament those once firstborn.

Hold the trumpet, bold and loud,
Proclaim the message, men once proud.
Bugles tap and drums cadence,
cry out soldiers, spirits whence.
Cry not for men who won't grow old,
sing for we who mine for gold.

Thumbing, seeking, gilded pages
and gaining wisdom of all ages.

Bullets, arrows, shall take their toll,
yet who remains called to the roll?
Stand with me, brave and true,
seek Him 'cross  deep skies of blue.
Hold the standard close to heart,
the final conflicts near to start.
March with me, we're heaven led,
follow Him whose mercy bled.

 

March with me, old and young;
battle won though death n’er stung.
Gilded soldiers, leather bound,
proclaim all Victory's ever found!
Gilded soldiers, rich words of love,
loud they cry for Heart above.
Cry not for men on poppy fields,
Cry out to HIM whose mercy yields.

For ever Justice, truth prevails,
despite that sin against us rails.
Hold us in your hearts awhile,
remember Him who had no guile.
We marched ahead, got lost in time,
await in darkness sweet sublime
Wait that final trumpets call,
when gilded soldiers never fall!

©timo antero onjukka 2007