When all the world becomes a battlefield,
And good is called evil, evil crowned as good,
When darkness wears the garments of the light,
And bitter lies are sweetened where they stood,

Then comes the solemn hour of trial and fire—
The true and faithful follower of Christ,
Must rise with courage born of heaven’s power,
Victorious, unyielding, sacrificed.

Not with the fearful heart that shrinks in shame,
Nor with the wavering soul that bends the knee,
But clothed in armor forged by God’s own name—
The breastplate bright of His pure righteousness.

Stand firm, O saint, for the King of Kings,
The Lord of Lords whose throne no storm can shake,
Whose eyes are flames and voice as mighty springs,
Whose coming makes the earth and heavens quake.

The birth pangs sharpen, swelling through the night,
Deception spreads, and love grows cold and dim,
False prophets rise and nations rage with might,
Yet He who promised will not lie to Him.

“Surely I come quickly,” rings the word,
The door stands open, redemption draws most near.
Lift up your heads, O weary saints who’ve heard—
Your King is at the threshold, crystal clear.

Though battlefields engulf the earth entire,
And moral order turns in dark reverse,
The faithful few must lift the sword of fire—
The Word of God, their only sure defense.

By blood of Lamb and testimony bold,
They overcome though hell itself assails,
With holy lives and love that’s pure as gold,
They walk the narrow path where truth prevails.

Hold fast, beloved, endure unto the end,
The one who stands victorious shall be crowned.
For Christ, the same forever, is your Friend—
In Him alone is victory profound.

The signs increase like labor pains of old,
The night grows darker, yet the dawn is nigh.
Stand firm, O authentic Christ follower bold—
Your King, the King of Kings, draws ever nigh.