Name: The Giant-Killer
Duration: 4 min 6 s
Channel: George MacDonald / Eric M. Pazdziora
Description: "The Giant-Killer" is a song by Eric Pazdziora. From the song cycle 'Phantastes: Seven Songs from a story by George MacDonald.' Performed by Charles Huff / Mona Coalter.

The Giant-Killer

Eric Pazdziora

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Single $1

Album $7

From the song cycle 'Phantastes: Seven Songs from a story by George MacDonald.' Performed by Charles Huff / Mona Coalter.

hymns contemporary classical choral film scores piano improvisations hymn arrangements praise and worship songs

Eric Pazdziora

A Christian composer, pianist, and songwriter with Celtic, Classical, and Contemporary influenced hymns, worship songs, and art music

Eric Pazdziora is a freelance composer, pianist, and worship leader specializing in a wide variety of musical styles. His compositions range from full orchestral works to simple congregational worship songs and hymns. He is a graduate of Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, with a Bachelor of Music degree in Sacred Music Composition.

Song Info

Genre

Classical • Contemporary

Peak in subgenre #80

Author

George MacDonald / Eric M. Pazdziora

Rights

Uploaded

March 25, 2008

Track Files

MP3

MP3 3.7 MB • 126 kbps • 4:06

Lyrics

The Giant-Killer

The king sat on his throne
Glowing in gold and red;
The crown in his right hand shone,
And the gray hairs crowned his head.

His only son walks in,
And in walls of steel he stands:
“Make me, O father, strong to win,
With the blessing of holy hands."

"Go to the fight, my son,
Bring back the giant's head;
And the crown with which my brows have done,
Shall glitter on thine instead."

"My father, I seek no crowns,
But unspoken praise from thee;
For thy people's good, and thy renown,
I will die to set them free."

The king sat down and waited there,
And rose not, night nor day;
Till a sound of shouting filled the air,
And cries of a sore dismay.

Then like a king he sat once more,
With the crown upon his head;
And up to the throne the people bore
A mighty giant dead.

And up to the throne the people bore
A pale and lifeless boy.
The king rose up like a prophet of yore,
In a lofty, deathlike joy.

He put the crown on the chilly brow:
"Thou should'st have reigned with me
But Death is the king of both, and now
I go to obey with thee.

"Surely some good in me there lay,
To beget the noble one."
The old man smiled like a winter day,
And fell beside his son.

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