Away from ev­ery mor­tal care,
Away from earth, our souls re­treat;
We leave this worth­less world afar,
And wait and wor­ship near Thy seat.

Lord, in the tem­ple of Thy grace
We see Thy feet, and we adore;
We gaze up­on Thy love­ly face,
And learn the won­ders of Thy pow­er.

While here our va­ri­ous wants we mourn,
United groans as­cend on high;
And pray­er bears a quick re­turn
Of bless­ings in va­ri­ety.

If Sa­tan rage, and sin grow strong,
Here we re­ceive some cheer­ing word;
We gird the Gos­pel ar­mor on
To fight the bat­tles of the Lord.

Or if our spir­it faints and dies,
Our con­science galled with in­ward stings,
Here doth the right­eous Sun arise
With heal­ing beams be­neath His wings.

Father! my soul would still ab­ide
Within Thy tem­ple, near Thy side;
But if my feet must hence de­part
Still keep Thy dwell­ing in my heart.