A warrior stood before his Master, <br />Bruised and bleeding from the fight, <br />Not for power, neither honor, <br />But in battling for the right. <br /> <br />Torn and tattered was his body, <br />Gashed and wounded was his face, <br />Stood he waiting for the Master <br />To assign his resting place. <br /> <br />The Master gazed on him in pity, <br />Saw the form which He had made, <br />Once like His, now so distorted; <br />Gazed into his face and said: <br /> <br />'Tell me, son, is this the body <br />That I gave you for awhile— <br />Given you so pure and holy, <br />You return it so defiled?' <br /> <br />''Master,' said the trembling soldier, <br />'In yonder world where I have been, <br />Daily I've encountered battle <br />With the daring monster, Sin. <br /> <br />'Each step I fought my journey through; <br />He strove to keep me from the goal; <br />Though he scored me yet I conquered; <br />Master, he's not scarred the soul.' <br /> <br />The Master saw the soul still shining, <br />Thought of His own hand and side, <br />Beckoned to the brightest heaven <br />That the gate be opened wide. <br /> <br />Then the Master cried, 'Immortal!' <br />The soul came flashing from his breast, <br />Pointing to the fairest heaven,' <br />'Enter thou in peaceful rest!'<br /><br />James Ephraim McGirt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-warrior-s-judgement/
