In these days, but few remain.
And those that fight are met with pain.
The beasts own mark, in flesh engraved.
To refuse is death, and yet will save,
The ones who bear the saviour's name.
In honored graves let dead be lain.
Putrescence suffocates this land.
The time for purification is at hand.
Hark, Our Shining Lord stands triumphant,
At the end of these dark ages.
(Redeemer of Souls.)