For the storms on whose free pinions[333] Thy spirit walks abroad;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
4. The royal eagle darteth on his quarry[334] from the heights,
And the stag, that knows no master, seeks there his wild delights;
But we, for Thy communion, have sought the mountain sod;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
5. The banner of the chieftain far, far below us waves;
The war-horse of the spearman cannot reach our lofty caves;
Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold of Freedom’s last abode;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!