To Think of Cavalry Mountain
On the morn of Cavalry Mountain
Set with knowledge, not with fear
Of the day and eve and night to come
Of what would soon appear
When a mob of sinning hatred
Not of Him, but of themselves
Fell in tumble to their wayside
And their savior they rebelled
On the day of Cavalry Mountain
On the last day of the reign
Through the streets of horrid rabble
With a burden set in pain
In the mind and in the body
For it was a death to be
On the day of Cavalry Mountain
One to last eternally
On the eve of Cavalry Mountain
On the eve a man was slain
For a sin He did not know of
And a love which brought Him fame
For a hand of worthless silver
By a friend, but not a friend
On the eve of Cavalry Mountain
One when hope did nearly end
On the night of Cavalry Mountain
With supports of iron nails
He cried high for their assistance
To a cause He could not fail
And in raining bolts of thunder
All His cries were not unheard
On the night of Cavalry Mountain
When He vowed he would return
