Oer The Mount And Through The Moor


O’er the mount and through the moor
Glide the Christian’s steps secure;
Day and night, no fear he knows;
Lonely, but with God, he goes:
For the coat of mail, bedight
In his spotless robe of white;
For the sinful sword, his hand
Bearing high the olive-wand.

Through the camp, and through the court,
Through the dark and deadly fort,
On the mission of the dove,
Speeds the minister of love;
By his word the wildest tames,
And the world to God reclaims;
War, and wrath, and famine cease,
Hushed around his path of peace.