Away from earth my spir­it turns—
Away from ev­ery tran­si­ent good;
With strong de­sire my bo­som burns
To feast on Heav’n’s di­vin­er food.

Thou Sav­ior, art the liv­ing bread,
Thou wilt my ev­ery want sup­ply;
By Thee sus­tained, and cheered, and led,
I’ll press thro’ dan­gers to the sky.

What tho’ temp­ta­tions oft dis­tress,
And sin as­sails and breaks my peace;
Thou wilt up­hold, and save, and bless,
And bid the storms of pass­ion cease.

Then let me take Thy gra­cious hand,
And walk be­side Thee on­ward still;
Till my glad feet shall safe­ly stand,
Forever firm, on Zi­on’s hill.