Swift as an eagle’s flight,
When hastening to his prey,
So, Father, in Thy sight,
Our moments pass away;
Yet not too swift their course shall be,
If they but bear us, Lord, to Thee.
As morning mists, that fly
The footsteps of the light;
As evening clouds, that die
Beneath the touch of night:
So fly our years—Lord, let them be
As friends, to lead us home to Thee!
Thy mercies past we sing,
The praise is Thine alone;
What future days shall bring,
To none but Thee is known:
Yet, whatsoe’er our portion be,
Conduct us safe to Heaven and Thee.
On life’s fast-rushing tide
What dangers hover near?
Yet, if our Savior guide,
We shall no shipwreck fear;
But joyful breast the stormy sea,
And land at last in Heaven with Thee.