While thy majestic form
In peerless strength thou liftest, bravely tow’ring
Above the howling storm.
And there thou dwellest, robed in sunset splendor,
Up ’mid the ether clear,
Midst the soft moonlight and the starlight tender
Of a pure atmosphere.
So, Christian soul, to thy low states declining,
There is no peace for thee;
Mount up! mount up! where the calm heavens are shining,