On church’s roof and cedar’s fan;
And mold thyself on pine and yew;
And on the awful face of man.
8. Without a sound, without a stir,
In streets and wolds, on rock and mound,
O, omnipresent Comforter,
By Thee, this night, the lost are found!
9. On quaking moor, and mountain moss,
With eyes upstaring at the sky,
And arms extended like a cross,