I waken with a hoping—
A clean page willing to be written full
Of joys and new accomplishing that I’ve not done before—
Desire for a coping—
A rise above an errant, worldly pull,
And write that leaf where faith grows wings that take their flight and soar.

In my strength I’d be failing
In each endeavor for a perfect flight.
Those wings would droop and plummet me to depths below the ground.
In God’s care I’ll keep sailing
And reach beyond a fore-accomplished height,
For in His arms I’ve ridden free and lofty summits found.