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"Devotees of the Light"
They go, the warriors of light,
Without swords, without shields,
Without cries, without tears:
They need no weapon for the fight.

The things they need are pure souls,
And no fear in their minds,
No spite and nothing of the kind,
A lot of charity for all.

The evil is immortal certainly:
What is the good without bad?
But like one clever writer said,
You must make good from bad and only.

And they are blacksmiths, beating good
From evil's ore with magic hammers,
The hammers have been made from summer,
From honour, love and brotherhood.

They weave the banner of the shine
With wily needles, using threads of mischief,
And black night stands behind just like a thief,
And day stands opposite for all the time.