Unshaken as the Sacred Hill

Unshaken as the sac­red hill

And firm as mount­ains be

Firm as a rock the soul shall rest

That leans

O Lord

on Thee.

Not walls nor hills could guard so well

Old Sa­lem’s hap­py ground

As those eter­nal arms of love

That ev­ery saint sur­round.

While ty­rants are a smart­ing scourge

To drive them near to God

Divine com­pas­sion does al­lay

The fu­ry of the rod.

Deal gent­ly

Lord

with souls sin­cere

And lead them safe­ly on

To the bright gates of para­dise

Where Christ their Lord is gone.

But if we trace the crook­ed ways

That the old ser­pent drew

The wrath that drove him first to hell

Shall smite his fol­low­ers

too.