With ev’ry venture, he withdrew
Impoverished; by his calculation,
Too often marched the beaten track.
Too much the common senses knew
That wealth alone should be your station;
Too often planned with failed attack —
Nightmarish norms then drove him back.

With ev’ry venture growing cold,
He settled in a long campaign;
The lighted fire in his eye
Had shined, and strategems unfold —
He saw the kingdom where he’ll reign,
“The Lord in you will never die!”
He built a citadel of man,
Prepared his weapon with a plan;
He struck surprise with zealous cry,
And captured foes from where they lie.