I hear that old familiar sound again, the ripping of my heart. What God has put together, satan will try to tear apart.
I feel the heat once again of the refiner’s white hot fire. When God tries us in the furnace, satan tempts us with fleshly desire.
On that mountain top, up so high. Satan in the valley conjuring up another lie.
Daily, taking up my cross to carry…all the while dodging darts of the adversary.
For every good work being done by the Lord…satan tries to weild his disastrous sword.
I’d rather shake off satan while I’m freely saved each new day, then go back to the nothingness my soul used to live, rotting away…