Surrounded by un­num­bered foes,
Against my soul the bat­tle goes;
Yet though I wea­ry, sore dis­tressed,
I know that I shall reach my rest:
I lift my tear­ful eyes above—
His ban­ner over me is love.

Its sword my spi­rit will not yield,
Though flesh may faint up­on the field;
He waves be­fore my fad­ing sight
The branch of palm, the crown of light:
I lift my bright­en­ing eyes above—
His ban­ner over me is love.

My cloud of bat­tle-dust may dim,
His veil of splen­dor cur­tain Him;
And in the mid­night of my fear
I may not feel Him stand­ing near:
But, as I lift mine eyes above,
His ban­ner over me is love.