Out of the line of fire
Steps you in unhurried grace
Watching indictments whiz by
Into the empty space.
When you sift not the dust
From e'ery river nor burden
Thyself with speck finding
In eyes smarting other men,
You keep off the shooting range
When their words they aim
At you with harmful intention
To do as they've felt the same.
For so they assume that in
Blasting you with hot anger
They'll free themselves from
Consternations that bind and hinder.
But if you refuse with them to argue,
No fisticuffs or hackles raised,
Their bullets disappear in the distance,
Their cannons no town to raze.
Then they with their anger hear echo
Of words they've just said;
Then they to their God can surrender
The fight fought with him instead;
While you wait for tears to catch
Of repentance in the wake of pride,
When you stood not in front of their guns
But with unhurried grace stepped aside.
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