Belial Heaps My Spur’d Pyre High

To the tune of "No Tramp of Soldiers' Marching Feet" Belial heaps my spur'd pyre high, One log for each defile; As up my wooden mound I fly, Dim draws life’s sundial. Deep into flesh sin’s splinters cut; By brow’s sweat, sinews sting. The carnal pipes of my heart smut, “Behold, behold your king!” Olden … Continue reading Belial Heaps My Spur’d Pyre High

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