As in some mine's dark, danksome depths;
There sunshine bright we gain.
To God, then, sound the timbrel!
There's naught can do us harm;
Our greatest foe has been laid low;
What else can cause alarm?
For freedom and for victory
Our hearts give loud acclaim;
Whate'er befall, on him we call;
North, South, East, West, in him we rest;