A plan crafted in secret, a plot forged in vain.
"Let's bring down the Bride", they say unafraid.
They prowl in the shadows, with bows fully drawn.
"Spears at the ready!" As they advance their first pawn.
But woe to you vipers, who take on the Bride.
She may be asleep, but the Lord's at her side.
When awake she's a juggernaut, wiser than snakes.
A lioness of Heaven who knocks on Her gates.
Her wings are like eagle's, her robe whiter than snow.
Clothed with the Northern Star; in the darkness she glows.
Her sword is a fire, the Lord's righteous flame.
With the approach of Armageddon she comes battle arrayed.
A daughter of Zion, whose name is adored.
She enters her chamber with angelic chorus accord.
She rests from her work, with gifts wisely applied.
She delights in His banquet with tears wiped from her eyes.
Like a vigilant guardian who restrains the unseen.
It takes more than a bishop to bring down this queen.
So woe to you wolves who appear mighty and brave.
She comes back anointed, you return to the grave.
A plan crafted in secret, a plot forged in vain.
"Who can bring down the Bride", they say now afraid.
