Oliver Holden - West End - текст песни (слова)

Awake, our souls; away, our fears,
 Let every trembling thought begone;
 Awake, and run the heavenly 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.
 
 Thee, 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 heavenly road.