Published online by Cambridge University Press: 21 March 2023
The Divine War Trumpet
The voice of the Lord in power, the voice of the Lord shaking the desert, the resounding trumpet of prophets and apostles rousing us from the torpor of sleep: Awake, o strong ones, for the Lord is coming with healing. Stand fast in faith, acquit yourselves like men, all you who trust in the Lord. Put on God’s armor, the breastplate of faith and the helmet of hope, the arms and buckler of a mind that trusts in the Lord. The Lord ordered Moses, the Lawbearer, to enlist those he had led from Egyptian servitude into the army of the Lord, all aged twenty or older and were capable of going to war. This age, being full of fervor, is highly trainable, be it in spiritual or material weapons. All the youth of military age throngs eagerly to war, young manhood clamors for weapons. Therefore act with confidence and courage; carry the standard of the Lord’s cross, and as you trust in the Lord, you will not weaken. “I,” says the Lord, “take you by the hand and say to you: Do not fear, for I am with you, a strong warrior and helper.” The bigger the battles, the stronger the divine help that will support you; and the higher the honors and more ample the rewards that will follow. Through places of horror and vast solitude, through pathless and waterless deserts beset with serpents, through hostile regions and harsh wars, yet also with refreshment and solace from above, with manna from heaven and water from a rock, with the column of fire for a guide and constant victory for a companion: thus did the Lord lead Israel to the land of milk and honey, teaching us that it is through similar labors that we will enter into his peace and joy. “Through many tribulations,” says Paul, “we must enter into the kingdom of God.” Quite similar is what Virgil sings; but the torch of heaven calls us upward, and the pot on the fire boils with earthly hope:
Through various fortunes and so many trials
We hold our course for Latium, where the fates
Hold out a settlement and rest for us,
Our haven after toil.
And our Boethius, telling the story of Hercules:
His dire labors celebrate Hercules.
His last labor is to hold up heaven
On his unbowed shoulders.
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