1 Away from earth my spirit turns—
Away from every transient good;
With strong desire my bosom burns
To feast on Heav’n’s diviner food.

2 Thou Savior, art the living bread,
Thou wilt my every want supply;
By Thee sustained, and cheered, and led,
I’ll press thro’ dangers to the sky.

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

4 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.