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.