You've instilled in me a fighting spirit, Oh Lord,
One that requires more than to just sit idly by.
I long to be in the forefront of Your army,
And fight even if I die.
This lion is roaring, roaring, roaring,
Begging to be cut loose,
And craving to pursue that battle, Lord,
Which will not end in a truce.
For with Your strength and power we will overcome it all,
And watch with gladness in our hearts as Babylon takes her fall.
I want to save Your people, Lord,
To save them from themselves,
Just as You once saved my heart,
You saved me from myself.
And now I ask, I beg of You,
Please show me what do to.
How do I manage this spirit, Lord,
That craves wild and adventure so?
For what purpose have You bestowed this unto me,
a lion fervently chasing a doe?
"Lie down and rest and walk with Me, my child,"
You spoke to me so softly.
"Your time will come if you wait a while,
You needn't be so haughty."
"Lie down beneath the tree and skirt the sun's overbearing heat,
Let Satan run and prepare Himself for a sound defeat."
"Meanwhile just put your trust in Me,
And remember that it was I
Who saw you fit to be this way
And made you as my lion."