Awake, Our Souls, Away, Our Fears

Awake

our souls

away

our fears

Let ev­ery trem­bling thought be gone;

Awake

and run the hea­v’n­ly race

And put a cheer­ful cour­age on.

True

’tis a strait and thor­ny road

And mor­tal spir­its tire and faint;

But they for­get the migh­ty God

That feeds the strength of ev­ery saint.

The migh­ty God

whose match­less pow­er

Is ev­er new

and ev­er young;

And firm en­dures

while end­less years

Their ev­er­last­ing cir­cles run.

From Thee

the ov­er­flow­ing spring

Our souls shall drink a fresh sup­ply

While such as trust their na­tive strength

Shall melt away

and droop

and die.

Swift as an ea­gle cuts the air

We’ll mount aloft to Thine ab­ode;

On wings of love our souls shall fly

Nor tire amidst the heav’n­ly road.