In every place our feet have trod
To walk alone where few men dwell,
Through meadows sweet, by waters calm,
Far from the tortured spires of hell.
Returning from faith’s battle lines,
His Word, our only trusted sword;
Through loss and sacrifice refined
We raise an altar to our Lord.
Let others take their stolen fruits,
Content in unclean tents to dwell;
Our portion is a sacred priest
Whose name shall be Emmanuel.
To taste of simple wine and bread,
And turn from all of Sodom’s hoard
To count the unnumbered stars of God:
“I am thy shield, and thy reward.”