GOD'S LIEUTNANTS

The Lieutenants of God are not made in a day.
The taste of their making is not sweet
But time sweetens their taste, having passed through the furnace of the bake.
They are the purge of all human substance to make them near-immortals.
Their eyes are fitted with fire.
Their mouths speak fire.
Their voices are like thunder.
The breath of their nostrils turmoil the sea.
The sound of their footsteps is like the galloping of a thousand stallions.
The mass of their body shatters the rock,
Yet they fly like butterflies.
They are not the making of man,
God makes them near-immortals, keeping them close to Himself.
His eyes are always on them, they never fail
For they have been baked brown.
Watch them match,
They are a glorious band
Each one full of the rainbow.
Over the hills, in the valley,
Through the forest, in the desert,
They never know exhaustion.

Hear them bless their maker
And you must join them.
Blessedness overflows with praise.
They know their maker and pay they him tribute in praise.

Blessed is the one whom the Lord conscripts,
He shall be called the mighty one of God.
Blessed is he who answers the call to serve,
His reward is great.

Honour and glory be unto the Lord God Almighty,
By His mercy and strength are His servants sustained.
His faithfulness is plenteous.
Honour and majesty belong to God.