That lies beneath the circling sun,
Various, as flowers in that sweet clime
Where flowers are, in heart, but one.
3 Soldiers of heaven! take sword and shield,
Look up to him who rules on high,
And forward to the glorious field,
Where noble martyrs bleed and die;
Press onward, scorning flight or fear,
As deep waves burst on Norway’s coast,
And let the startled nations hear