1 Let others sing of battles fought
And won on bloody fields,
Where honor meets the man who wins,
And death the man who yields;
But I will sing of him who fights,
And vanquishes his sins;
Who struggles on through weary years
Against himself, and wins.

2 It calls for something more than brawn
Or muscle, to o’ercome
An enemy who marcheth not
With banner, plume, and drum―
A foe forever lurking nigh,
With silent, stealthy tread,
His presence with you day by day,
At night, beside your bed.

3 All honor, then, to that brave heart,
Tho’ poor or rich he be,
Who struggles with his baser part,
Who conquers, and is free!
He may not wear a hero’s crown,
Nor fill a hero’s grave,
But truth will place his name among
The bravest of the brave.