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Born beneath banners heavy with name and grace,
Norbert de la Faille learned early his place.
Steel and prayer, the family creed,
Glory in battle, a righteous deed.
But when the call came, it wasn’t the sword,
It was the quiet voice of a gentler lord.
“Not you,” they said, “for the shining fight,”
So they sent him to pray while others took flight.

A noble’s son in borrowed robes,
Mending the sick, calming souls.
Hands that healed, not hands that slew,
Yet every night the old dream grew.
He watched the paladins ride away,
While he stayed behind to kneel and stay.
Faith was duty, not choice or flame,
A crown of service, not one of fame.

Oh Norbert, lightbearer, standing your ground,
You heal the living when hope’s run down.
Even if it costs you breath and bone,
You won’t let your companions face the dark alone.
You’ll stand, you’ll bleed, you’ll answer the call,
Even if heaven never sings your name at all.

Then came the Wayhouse, quiet and strange,
A threshold of witness, of fate, of change.
Names were written, paths undone,
And Norbert stepped where he’d never run.
Not for glory, not for crown,
But because someone had to stand their ground.
In halls where memory bends and frays,
He learned the cost of borrowed days.

He saw wounds that prayer could not erase,
He saw truth stare him in the face.
That healing isn’t always kind,
And mercy doesn’t leave you blind.
Still he stood when others shook,
Shield and symbol, steady look.
Not the hero songs are made to praise,
But the one who holds the line and stays.

Oh Norbert, lightbearer, steady and true,
You carry the dawn where night breaks through.
You don’t ask if the price is fair,
You’re already there when the world needs care.
If dying is what it takes to save,
You’ll make that vow and walk that way.

He still dreams of battle’s roar,
Of proving worth he doubts once more.
But now he knows, with every scar,
That staying human is the harder war.
Not every saint wears shining mail,
Some just refuse to turn or fail.

Oh Norbert de la Faille, sworn and scarred,
You guard the fragile, the tired, the marred.
Whether heaven cheers or turns away,
You’ll light the dark and choose to stay.
No crown, no song, no promised throne,
Just a healer who won’t let the world die alone.

And if the gods remember names,
Let them remember this refrain:
When all seemed lost and hope was thin,
Norbert stood and would not give in.