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.