Sacred Text

To alms, the lord of sacred linage cries!
And all who here come forth to heed the call,
Save those whose want for bloody fodder yearns
Crawling low with weapons born of desire.

To conquer here with hands of gentle birth!
To call upon the light of loving quest,
A time of sorrow and remorse to end
And see the victors hand become our friend.

No more to view on Satans' vilest land!
Stand fast! All men, the day of doom is past.
And do we dwell with hope that this be true?
That you love us as much as we love you...