“No weapon forged against you will prevail,
and you will refute every tongue that accuses you.
This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD,
and this is their vindication from me,”
declares the LORD.
this hope cuts through it all:
the fears I have harboured in the dark,
the jury’s decisions,
my own accusations,
the evidence I have brought against me.
And though my heart is faint
and I still hear the clanging bell;
though I am more accustomed to shame
than I am to walking in light –
Your soft-as-wind whisper
sings in my ear:
No weapon –
not the fiercest dagger,
nor the sharpest arrow,
no decisive bomb,
no astute missile –
no weapon will prosper against me.
No tongue –
no whisper, no snarl,
no loud accusation,
no banging on the judge’s desk,
no word from me against myself –
no tongue will have the final word
except for this:
safe on high, kept with my Lord,
the final word against all words,
the final truth to trump all truths,
the final sword to smash all swords –
that I am His beloved.
This, then, is my heritage
which none can take away.