5. The stouthearted are spoiled. They
came to spoil, and they are spoiled themselves. Their stout hearts are cold in
death. They have slept their sleep. Their last sleep—the sleep of death.
And none of the men of might have found their hands. They cannot lift a
finger, for the rigor of death has stiffened them. O God, thus shalt thou fight
for us, and in the hour of peril overthrow the enemies of thy Gospel. Therefore
in thee will we trust and not be afraid.
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