Mystery of Deity, the incarnated beckons me.
From the abyss of ages past,
You call to me and with broken voice I roar:
Place me at thy right hand and count me among thy saints.
I will spread my wings and die with barrels
smoking and my feet soaked in sordid blood.
With your cross on my banner,
with your holy wounds ever present in my heart,
With the pain of birth, not of rotting death.
Let me die the death of one standing on his feet.
A martyr of freedom in a world of bondage.
Let me hold my ground until my head rolls upon it,
My eyes fixed upon the sky until you
come upon it as the fire on mount Carmel.
Let that be the day when we draw swords together.
Let that be the day when we draw breath together.
Live once and die forever,
or die once and live forever? I have made my choice.
Should I fade I pray: Call me with the trumpet on the final day.