Powerless, still.

In the morning,
the enemy tried to sing.
His voice grew louder,
But it wasn't loud enough
to cause me to quiver.

I sat in my kitchen,
I smiled at my savior's words.

Sing, my savior told me.

My lips parted and praises sung.
My savior's name I called,
And at the sound of His name,
the enemy's voice trembled.

I laughed with my maker beside me
For the enemy is powerless,
still.