THE LAST TRUMPET

In every battle,

In every battle camp;

Always lies a night watchman,

Who neither sleep nor slumber.

To protect His own,

He blows the trumpet,

To Alert His own;

He gave signs.

In his book,

He gave us His signs,

His word,

The signs he foretold

These signs, have come to pass,

Yet our awareness is unconscious,

These signs He gave us,

To prepare and hide in his shadow.

The watchman has blown His trumpet,

The trumpet of his own,

Only a dog destined to go astray,

Will fail to heed the trumpet.