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
I lift my brightening eyes above,
His Banner over me is Love.

My cloud of battle-dust may dim;
His veil of splendour 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.