The Staff of Faith

Verse 1

My faith, it is an oaken staff, The trav'ler’s well-loved aid; My faith, it is a weapon stout, The soldier’s trusty blade. I’ll travel on, and still be stirred By silent thought or social word; By all my perils undeterred, A soldier pilgrim staid.

Verse 2

I have a guide, and in His steps When travelers have trod, Whether beneath was flinty rock Or yielding grassy sod, They cared not, but with force unspent, Unmoved by pain, they onward went, Unstayed by pleasures, still they bent Their zealous course to God.

Verse 3

My faith, it is an oaken staff, O let me on it lean! My faith, it is a trusty sword, May falsehood find it keen! Thy Spirit, Lord, to me impart, O make me what Thou ever art, Of patient and courageous heart, As all true saints have been.