Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high;
Away, and praise that sovereign Love,
That shows salvation nigh.
On all the wings of time it flies;
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day!
Welcome each closing year!
Not many years their round shall run,
Nor many mornings rise,
Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.
Ye wheels of nature, speed your course;
Ye mortal powers, decay;
Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.