In this incessant struggle
Between sides of wrong and right,
Never has there been a lull,
To cease this long, age-old fight.

One advances—one retreats.
With a great surge, sides reverse.
This cycle runs and repeats.
The plight of an endless curse.

Contrasts locked in these attacks,
Composed not of flesh and bone,
With war tactics and strong backs,
But a heart and soul alone.

So what plagues my cognizance?
The Fight: Good versus Evil.
God's way with deliverance
Or Sins with worldly appeal.

When my foe appears vanquished
Soon I find I'm overrun.
My strength fades, I'm soon finished.
With a heave, I'm far from done.

Tempted by sins of the flesh;
Beckons from the road of ease;
I'm entangled by this mesh—
My lone recourse on my knees.

Personal strength proves fruitless
For we're not self-reliant.
There's one way for happiness:
Through God's plan of sacrament.