Awake, you saints, and raise your eyes,

And raise your voices high;

Awake, and praise that sovereign love

That shows salvation nigh.

2 On all the wings of time it flies;

Each moment brings it near;

Then welcome each declining day,

Welcome each closing year!

3 Not many years their round shall run,

Not many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed

To our admiring eyes.

4 You wheels of nature, speed your course,

You mortal powers, decay;

Fast as you bring the night of death,

You bring eternal day.