Now who will be my knight,
My shining light
Against the deep darkness
Of sin and shame?

On light a flame,
Sweet mistness tame
With words of glowing praise
For her delight?

The one I’ll call upon
Shall be named John,
And like his namesake
In the wilderness bereft.

In some stark cleft,
I’ll make his spirit burgeon
And live on.

Nor plots nor purposes
Of the mortal foe
Nor dire threats nor honeyed words enthrall,
The crystal brightness of his loving soul
Or drag it into blackness down below.

For his protection she will go and bind
The prince of darkness in her net of love;
On John, the snowy wings of Holy Dove
Will rest;
While he, the halt, the blind, the lame,
Will serve and offer service
To thee alone above.