The King’s Sword

By David Wyllie (my dad)

My dad wrote this poem several years ago. I hope it blesses you as you read it today. My dad is a man who walks before God. He always says, “The Lord is not someone I believe in. He’s someone I know.”  Truly his life has reflected that in every way.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”  Isaiah 6:8

The King’s Sword

By David Wyllie

One day an old warrior rode into town.

Many looked but few hung around.

The old man slowly turned his eyes to me,

And in his face his wisdom I could see.

I saw by his scars the battles he’d faced.

For in the King’s service his life he had placed.

He said, “I’m going home and laying my sword down.

Who will pick up this sword and carry it around?”

He said, “There are many that bare wooden sticks,

But this sword only a few would be willing to pick.

Who will pick up this sword, my son?

Who will answer the King’s call and see the job done?”

“The call is not easy. A man must weigh cost.

The cost is everything you have,

But the cost is not lost.

Who will pick up this sword, my son?

Who will answer the King’s call and see the job done?”

I looked at the sword as it gleamed from his hand,

Bright as ever though handed through the generations of man.

The old man watched as I looked at the sword.

“Will you pick it up my son, or need I ask more?”

I looked about me to see if there were others around,

All had fled. No one to be found.

They feared the sword that the old man bore.

They loved their lives and wanted no war.

But without the sword they could not see.

Because the sword is life and by it we are free.

“Who will pick up the sword my son?

Who will answer the King’s call and see the job done?”

“How can I pick up the sword and enter the battle, old man?

Am I a soldier? I have no battle plan.”

“Just obey the King!” yelled the old man.

“He loves you and will guide you. You need no battle plan.

Will you pick up the sword my son?

Will you serve the King and see the job done?”

I took the sword from the old man’s hand.

And from there into the battlefield I ran.

Many looked at me and called me “Fool,”

But I knew better. I was under the King’s rule.

My life I had given, which was a small thing,

But when I gave it, I had everything.

The Lord is my King, my Redeemer, my Life.

Until I’m called home, with His sword will I fight.

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