Defended by the Lord

Blessed are they who walk not, in the counsel of the proud.

Who stand not with the fallen, nor sit among the loud. They choose the

path of honor, where the ancient truths remain. Through shadowed hills they journey,

yet their hearts are free from stain. Through the silence of the valley,

through the storm and through the flame, a whisper guides their footsteps,

and it calls them each by name. Like trees beside the waters,

their branches rise to light. Their fruit appears in season, their leaves stay

ever bright. But the wicked scatter quickly, chaff on the winds of night.