For Ever Hallowed Be This Morning Fair, Blest Be The Unconscious Shore On Which Ye Tread, And Blest The Silver Cross, Which Ye, Instead Of Martial Banner, In Procession Bear; The Cross Preceding Him Who Floats In Air, The Pictured Saviour! By Augustin Led, They Come, And Onward Travel Without Dread, Chanting In Barbarous Ears A Tuneful Prayer Sung For Themselves, And Those Whom They Would Free! Rich Conquest Waits Them: The Tempestuous Sea Of Ignorance, That Ran So Rough And High And Heeded Not The Voice Of Clashing Swords, These Good Men Humble By A Few Bare Words, And Calm With Fear Of God'S Divinity.