The foe becomes to me a sheep,
His ire becomes a blessèd sleep,
Of quiet rest the pillow.
Thou Jesus! O thou sweetest Friend,
My light and life art ever!
Thou holdest me, dost me defend,
The foe can move Thee never.
In Thee I am, Thou art in me,
As we are here, we'll ever be,
Nought here or there can part us.