Classic Poem

Away from earth my spirit turns,
Away from every transient good:
With strong desire my bosom burns,
To feast on Heaven's diviner food.

Thou, Savior, art the living bread;
Thou wilt my every want supply;
By thee sustained, and cheered and led,
I'll press through dangers to the sky.

What though temptations oft distress,
And sin assails, and breaks my peace;
Thou wilt uphold, and save, and bless,
And bid the storms of passion cease.

Then let me take thy gracious hand,
And walk beside thee onward still;
Till my glad feet shall safely stand
Forever firm on Zion's hill.