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∞∞∞ That stood high against the raging tide, Racing on, 'ward the mounted wall. The seas roll, ripping a ghastly hole, Piercing deep the master's keep. Farmers with humble wit, Timid in their bolted inn, Fear was the grip that kept them in. The master lay but for a while, In darkness- though He's the light. The seed planted from everlasting Is bursting out like a boon sprout, Soon to become the Tree on the Rock, Whose fruit is life-- Everlasting Life. Farmers with obedience received The news in preparation for spring. Victory is sure for those newly born, Who truly deserved the cup of Wrath, But through the pierced rib Their path washed clean. Those as bruised reeds To the Tree cling, Their wounds are completely healed. Upon this mount, they shall stand, Bold, against the raging tide. ∞∞∞
— Cotek