The Signatory Poem by Gert Strydom

Am I that sign here, God’s last prophet
and do I carry the burden
that I through my self-conceit do not always know His ways
with somewhere where I do fit into His plan?

Still I wonder how I a sinful human
can ever be holy,
where mighty people execrate my people, and me
I sometimes see hatred in their eyes?

Let every thing that I write down
reach for pure truth, justice and being noble
making the unrest trivial, winning the struggle,
that every Afrikaner and I surprise our enemies:

May God Himself be in our midst,
He Himself be fighting the struggle with His saving Spirit.

[Ps. as salvation only comes from Him.]