Held by that hand of strongest strength,
Wrapt in a robe of love,
Across the desert dark and wild,
We’re led by Him above.
The vaults of heaven soon shall ring
With songs of richest praise,
While now the desert places breathe
Of prayer the pilgrims raise.
‘Tis Heav’n below! like Heav’n above,
We chant the same sweet strain;
We breathe the fragrance of His love,
And praise the Lamb once “slain.”
We feast upon the “Living Bread,”
E’en Heav’n’s eternal store;
While oft with weary step, we walk
This sterile desert o’er.
We drink from that sweet stream of love,
Which downward richly flows,
And see the hedge of piercing thorns
Oft blossom like the rose.