Flee as a bird to your mount­ain,
Thou who art wea­ry of sin;
Go to the clear flow­ing foun­tain
Where you may wash and be clean.
Haste, then, th’Av­eng­er is near thee;
Call, and the Sav­ior will hear thee;
He on His bo­som will bear thee;
O thou who art wea­ry of sin,
O thou who art wea­ry of sin.

He will pro­tect thee for­ev­er,
Wipe ev­ery fall­ing tear;
He will for­sake thee, O ne­ver,
Sheltered so ten­der­ly there.
Haste, then, the hours are fly­ing,
Spend not the mo­ments in sigh­ing,
Cease from your sor­row and cry­ing:
The Sav­ior will wipe ev­ery tear,
The Sav­ior will wipe ev­ery tear.