St. George's in the Pines

St. George that savest England, Save us who still must go Where leads thy cross of scarlet Upon its field of snow!

Beyond the life of cities, Distractions and dismays, Where mountain shadows measure The passing of the days.

Among the lonely snow-peaks Where golden morning shines, Stands thy undaunted outpost Among the lodge-pole pines—

A little stone-built chapel As modest as can be, Touched with a loving glory, To house thy God and thee.

Here, where majestic beauty And inspiration bide, Be thou, to make us worthy, Our counsellor and guide.

Be with us, Soul of England, Where the last trail puts forth, To keep unsoiled forever The honor of the North.