Whence do our mournful thoughts arise?

And where's our courage fled?

Have restless sin and raging hell

Struck all our comforts dead?

Have we forgot th' almighty name

That formed the earth and sea?

And can an all-creating arm

Grow weary or decay?

Treasures of everlasting might

In our Jehovah dwell;

He gives the conquest to the weak

And treads their foes to hell.

Mere mortal power shall fade and die,

And youthful vigor cease:

But we that wait upon the Lord

Shall feel our strength increase.

The saints shall mount on eagles' wings,

And taste the promised bliss,

Till their unwearied feet arrive

Where perfect pleasure is.