There stands a rock on shores of time
That rears to Heaven its head sublime.
That rock is cleft, and they are blest
Who find within this cleft a rest.
Some build their hopes on the ever drifting sand,
Some on their fame, or their treasure, or their land;
Mine’s on a rock that forever will stand,
That rock’s a cross, its arms outspread,
Celestial glory bathes its head;
To its firm base my all I bring,
And to the Rock of Ages cling.
That rock’s a tower, whose lofty height,
Illumed with Heaven’s unclouded light,
Opes wide its gate beneath the dome
Where saints find rest with Christ at home.