Away, my un­be­liev­ing fear!
Fear shall in me no more have place;
My Sav­ior doth not yet ap­pear,
He hides the bright­ness of His face;
But shall I there­fore let Him go,
And base­ly to the tempt­er yield?
No, in the strength of Je­sus, no!
I ne­ver will give up my shield.

Although the vine its fruit de­ny,
Although the ol­ive yield no oil,
The wi­ther­ing fig-tree droop and die,
The field elude the til­ler’s toil,
The emp­ty stall no herd af­ford,
And per­ish all the bleat­ing race,
Yet will I tri­umph in the Lord,
The God of my sal­va­tion praise.

Barren al­though my soul re­main,
And not one bud of grace ap­pear,
No fruit of all my toil and pain,
But sin, and on­ly sin is here;
Although my gifts and com­forts lost,
My bloom­ing hopes cut off I see;
Yet will I in my Sav­ior trust,
And glo­ry that He died for me.

In hope, be­liev­ing against hope,
Jesus my Lord and God I claim;
Jesus my strength shall lift me up,
Salvation is in Je­sus’ name;
To me He soon shall bring it nigh;
My soul shall then out­strip the wind,
On wings of love mount up on high,
And leave the world and sin be­hind.