Words: , Hal­le­lu­iah (Bris­tol, Eng­land: 1745) (Arglwydd, arwain trwy’r anialwch). Trans­lat­ed from Welsh to Eng­lish by , Hymns on Var­i­ous Sub­jects (Car­mar­then, Wales: 1771); Will­iams pub­lished an­o­ther Eng­lish trans­la­tion in ’s Col­lect­ion, cir­ca 1772.

Music: Cwm Rhon­dda, , 1907. Hughes wrote this tune in Tonteg (near Pontypridd), Wales, to com­mem­o­rate a mu­sic fest­iv­al held in near­by Ca­pel Rhon­dda, Hop­kins­town. It was first per­formed No­vem­ber 1 that year to Welsh words by Ann Grif­fiths; in the ear­ly days it was simp­ly known as Rhon­dda, but with­in a year he changed the name to Cwm Rhon­dda, used Pe­ter Will­iams’ trans­la­tion, and the rest is his­to­ry. Al­ter­nate tunes (some use slight­ly diff­er­ent end­ings to the lyr­ics):

  • Guide Me, , 1884
  • Oliphant, ar­ranged from Pierre M. F. de S. Baillot, 1830, by , 1832
  • Pilgrimage, , 1861
  • Segur, , 1862
  • Turner, , 1895
  • Zion, , 1830

This hymn was sung, in Welsh, in the Acad­e­my Award win­ning mo­vie How Green Was My Val­ley (1941). It was sung in Eng­lish at the fun­er­al of Di­a­na, Prin­cess of Wales, in West­min­ster Ab­bey, Lon­don, Sep­tem­ber 6, 1997.

The power of this hymn as a shield is il­lus­trat­ed by an al­le­go­ry of [Welsh preach­er] Christ­mas Ev­ans. “I see the un­clean spir­it ris­ing like a winged dra­gon, circ­ling in the air, and seek­ing for a rest­ing-place. Cast­ing his fiery glanc­es to­ward a cer­tain neigh­bor­hood, he spies a young man in the bloom of life, and re­joic­ing in his strength, seat­ed in the front of his cart, go­ing for lime. ‘There he is!’ said the old dra­gon; ‘his veins are full of blood, and his bones of mar­row; I will throw into his bo­som sparks from hell; I will set all his pass­ions on fire; I will lead him from bad to worse, until he shall per­pe­trate ev­ery sin. I will make him a mur­der­er, and his soul shall sink, ne­ver again to rise, in the lake of fire.’ By this time, I see it des­cend, with a fell swoop to­ward the earth; but near­er the youth, the dra­gon, heard him sing,—

‘Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land…’

‘A dry, dry place this,’ says the old dra­gon; and away he goes. But I see him again ho­ver­ing about in the air, and cast­ing about for a suit­a­ble rest­ing-place. Be­neath his eye there is a flow­ery mea­dow, wa­tered by a crys­tal stream; and he des­cries among the kine a maid­en, about eight­een years of age, pick­ing up here and there a beau­ti­ful flow­er. ‘There she is!’ says Apol­lyon, in­tent upon her soul: ‘I will poi­son her thoughts; she shall stray from the paths of vir­tue; she shall think evil thoughts and be­come im­pure; she shall be­come a lost crea­ture in the great ci­ty, and at last, I will cast her down from the pre­ci­pice into ev­er­last­ing burn­ings.’ Again he took his down­ward flight, but he no soon­er came near the maid­en, than he heard her sing the fol­low­ing words, with a voice that might have melt­ed the rocks,—

‘Other refuge I have none
Hangs my helpless soul on thee…’

Again he turned away de­feat­ed. The devil can say, as did the en­e­mies of the re­form­ers, ‘By their songs we are con­quered.’”

Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,
[or Guide me, O Thou great Redeemer…]
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but Thou art mighty;
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of Heaven, Bread of Heaven,
Feed me till I want no more;
Feed me till I want no more.

Open now the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing stream doth flow;
Let the fire and cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through.
Strong Deliverer, strong Deliverer,
Be Thou still my Strength and Shield;
Be Thou still my Strength and Shield.

Lord, I trust Thy mighty power,
Wondrous are Thy works of old;
Thou deliver’st Thine from thralldom,
Who for naught themselves had sold:
Thou didst conquer, Thou didst conquer,
Sin, and Satan and the grave,
Sin, and Satan and the grave.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of deaths, and hell’s destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan’s side.
Songs of praises, songs of praises,
I will ever give to Thee;
I will ever give to Thee.

Musing on my habitation,
Musing on my heav’nly home,
Fills my soul with holy longings:
Come, my Jesus, quickly come;
Vanity is all I see;
Lord, I long to be with Thee!
Lord, I long to be with Thee!

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