Fortress of hope, anchor of faithful zeal,
Rock of affiance, bulwark of sure trust,
In whom all nations for salvation must
Put certain confidence of their souls' weal:
Those sacred mysteries, dear Lord, reveal
Of that large volume, righteous and just.
From me, though blinded with this earthly dust
Do not those gracious mysteries conceal;
That I by them, as from some beamsome lamp,
May find the bright and right direction
To my soul, blinded, marching to that camp
Of sacred soldiers whose protection
He that victorious on a white horse rideth
Taketh, and evermore triumphant guideth.