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Picture a twelve-year-old
with round rocks for his sling
facing the fearsome, bold
Goliath.  In a ring
two armies stand apart.
The boy with his brave heart

can kill from thirty yards
wolves on a pasture’s banks,
but now the lamb he guards
is Israel.  The ranks
of Philistines at war
cut loose a curdling roar.

Drilled in his giant head,
Goliath drops down dead.

Rex Iudae

David, I say your songs
and live to right my wrongs,
doing so every day.
Yours is the text I pray.
The days of man are grass
so swiftly do we pass.

Compared to yours, my sins
mere barkings of my shins,
but depth of our belief
in God as our relief,
that is the faith we share,
our shield against despair.

Renewed, reborn, restored,
Wait, wait for the Lord.

—Tim Murphy