Flee as a Bird to Your Mountain
Flee as a bird to your mountain, thou who art weary of sin;
Go to the clear flowing fountain where you may wash and be clean.
Haste, then, the Avenger is near thee; call, and the Savior will hear thee;
He on His bosom will bear thee; O thou who art weary of sin,
O thou who art weary of sin.
He will protect thee forever, wipe every falling tear;
He will forsake thee, O never, sheltered so tenderly there.
Haste, then, the hours are flying, spend not the moments in sighing,
Cease from your sorrow and crying: The Savior will wipe every tear,
The Savior will wipe every tear.
~Mary S. Shindler