By Isaac Stiles

In a faraway land, in a cave of the earth,

Dwelt a dragon most foul, a devourer of men.

It brought many to death e’en while promising mirth,

For the dragon would lie to bring prey to its den.

I was one who did hear it while wandering near,

And its pledges of comfort seemed good to my soul.

I went into its lair, I came close without fear,

And I gave myself up — the beast swallowed me whole.

It was inside the dragon I realized my plight.

I felt nothing of comfort, but only of pain.

With air suffocating, the acids would bite,

And I thought myself fodder, I thought myself slain.

But what I did not see was a radiant hand

That did strike the beast once; it could not have fled.

I was vomited out, once again on dry land,

And I turned — could it be? — the dragon was dead!

He who struck down the dragon was someone I love:

‘Twas my Father most fair, the great King of this realm.

His comfort is true; it alights like a dove

 From the five deep carnelians adorning His helm.

“My dear son,” the Lord spoke, “you are not to return

To this shelter of falsehood — here lies nothing good.

You must follow Me only, this evil to spurn,

And walk in My power, in which you have stood.”

In my Rescuer’s love I did joyfully exult,

But I knew not that that is when danger invades.

The dragon held sway; there existed a cult

Garbed in indigo, cyan, and violet shades.

“Come with us,” they would breathe, “for our member you are,

And to him who brings comfort we all shall be fed.

Simply follow us, friend, for the way is not far.

How can it be true that the dragon is dead?”

To my shame, I believed what I heard, what I saw

When I went to the cave and the dragon seemed real.

Thinking comfort would come, climbing into its maw

I felt safe. I felt warm. But these thoughts I’d repeal.

For my conscience did strike me; the weight of my guilt

Would impel me to flee from the maw where I dwelt.

Before one thought alone did my heart and soul wilt;

For destruction it forecast, disaster it spelt:

“Dear Master,” I cried, “I have cast you aside,

I have hated your precepts and ran from your ways!”

But the Sovereign was there not to damn or to chide,

But to first let His grace cleanse my guilt-ridden haze.

“Yes, you have,” He began, “but return to My truth.

Have you lost sight of when for your pardon I bled?

I am strengthening you to hate even one tooth

That could lead you astray, for the dragon is dead.”

He was strengthening me? But if this was all His,

Then what would I do? Should I wait? Should I act?

This riddle long kept me from liberty’s bliss;

I thought I could not fight without knowing this tact.

So the cult won me over again and again;

I was never their member but went with them oft.

One day when they called me back into the den,

I did not want to go, but I turned and spoke soft:

“O my Father,” I wept, “what am I to do?

The battle is brutal, it’s too much for me.”

My Father did hear, and He answered this, too:

“There’s something I’ve said that I want you to see.

This puzzle has been a most tormenting wraith,

But I made you anew when I died in your stead.

The life you now live is a life lived by faith.

So believe when I say that the dragon is dead.”

Now when looking to Him would I stay the right course,

But one thing existed that lowered my gaze.

That cult seemed to be a most terrible force

That could lead me astray in the strongest of days.

Their words shook my faith and distracted my mind

To dwell on the vows of the dragon corrupt.

Infuriated now that I could be so blind,

I gave vent to my soul, let my anger erupt:

“Great Sovereign, when is it you’ll strike down the foe?

I’m tired of failing, I’m tired of lies!”

My Father replied to me, stooping down low

With justice and kindness entwined in His eyes:

“For their evil towards you I shall cast them away.

They shall know I am Lord; My Name shall they dread.

They have no more power. They have no more say.

They worship a falsehood. The dragon is dead.

Yet, My son, hear My voice, and remember you must:

You are perpetrator, not victim of sin.”

And the King struck me once with discipline just,

Motivated by love never-ending within.

I clung to my Father and praised Him for grace

Training me, yielding righteousness’ peaceable fruit.

There was nothing but mercy and love in His face.

Now I see, and His words I shall not convolute.

Does this mean I have never returned to that cave?

Friend, I wish, but I know that the failure is mine.

And I know that my Father is mighty to save,

So while sin should afflict, it will never confine.

And now I see the dragon as truly it is:

Destroyed is its power, and crushed is its head.

It was killed by my Savior; this ballad is His. All glory to Yahweh, the dragon is dead!